


The Star Called Mione G

by TheTitaniumSerpent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Romance, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 42
Words: 61,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTitaniumSerpent/pseuds/TheTitaniumSerpent
Summary: Hermione Granger's secret hobby turns serious when Dumbledore decides to use her as a pawn, a distraction and a weapon in his game of warfare. The famous starlet called Mione G might change the course of the war in many surprising ways.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anything you recognise belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit made.
> 
> Also, I would like to make a standard statement: there will be no animagus-Hermione or animagus-Severus. No, Hermione will not have gained months or years of extra age in her third year, she gained maximum a few days. No, Severus will not have glamours that disguise his nose larger or his hair greasier. No, neither of them will be of Veela, Fae or any other strange origin. And no, he will not be receiving magical or Muggle dental treatments to correct his teeth. Nor will her bushy and curly hair be magically be turned into luxurious easy-to-maintain curls, it'll be a result of hard labour and tons of hair-care. 
> 
> Also, people can point out any mistakes, be they grammatical or contextual. I'm not a native English speaker and I work without a beta, so there probably will be quite a few. With a backround in academia I'm used to receiving constructive criticism, however, so I don't blow off my top.

Hermione Granger struggled to a sitting position in the infirmary cot and grimaced at the pain. The Curse she'd received from Dolohov at the Ministry was healing well, but now, only three days after the battle, sitting still hurt. 

Unfortunately the Curse wound would leave a scar, though Madam Pomfrey had promised it wouldn't be large or noticeable, but Hermione still needed to figure out a way to explain it to her make-up artists. Lisa and Janice knew their business, but they'd still see it. Probably Maureen and Grace from the costumes too, because Muggle make-up could only hide so much. Hiding it with a Glamour would be impossible outside Hogwarts: she'd turn seventeen in September, until then she wouldn't be able to renew the Glamour daily, and the busy summer was booked...

Her private musings were stopped when she heard someone enter: a quick glance proved it was Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff. Justin had become her secret confidant during the last year: he'd stumbled on her big secret, but with surprising discretion had approached her privately instead of spreading gossip around, and the two had become good friends since then. 

Truth be told, it was surprising that Justin had been the only one who'd noticed, though Justin himself suggested that some other Muggle-borns and perhaps a few Half-bloods might have noticed but were just being discreet or otherwise unwilling to interfere with something Hermione had obviously kept secret even from her best friends.

“How're you doing, Hermione?” Justin asked with a smile and offered her a bag of chocolates from Honeydukes. Hermione took the bag gratefully: they were her favourite chocolates, an assorted selection of truffles Justin knew she adored. 

“Better, thanks. Still stings, but it'll pass.”

“Bummer. They said you won't have to stay for long?”

“Nope. I'll be released soon enough. Good thing too, I'll need practice.”

“I could keep a lookout and warn you if someone comes, so you can run scales if you want?”

“Nah, thanks for offering, but singing hurts right now, I'd need to take deep breaths.”

“You'll have time, though?” Justin queried with a sympathetic grimace. 

“Yep.”

“You're not getting bored here, are you?”

“No. Ron is being a bother, though. He keeps whining that I need to spend the summer at the Burrows with him and Harry, and I can't bloody well tell him why not, you know what he's like. He just keeps moping and moaning, and I hate to disappoint him.”

Justin rolled his eyes in a way that related he knew Ronald Weasley's whinging all too well. “I know you have a crush on him but...”

Hermione moaned. “That obvious?”

“Oh yes,” Justin chuckled. “Very obvious. The thing is... are you sure he's the right one for you?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes dangerously and shot Justin a sharp look that made the Hufflepuff laugh and raise his hands protectively, though Hermione hadn't reached for her wand. 

“Peace, Mione G, peace! You know I have a thing for Susan, and you're my friend so I keep your best interest at heart. But, you know, he's Ron Weasley. I know everyone's been telling you how you'll probably end up together, but he'd nothing alike you, you know? You're an academic. You love to read, learn, study and make discoveries, while he's interested in Quidditch and food. He's a pure-blood with no clue on how the Muggle world works, and with your career in, you know... I just can't see you two as a couple, you know?”

“Really?” Hermione asked, looking slightly crestfallen. 

“It's your call, I'm sure. But think about it: the Weasleys are notoriously family-centred people. He'll probably want a girl who pops out several kids as soon as possible, and having the career you have right now... especially if you intend to get a second career in the Ministry or research, as you suggested? And you know how jealous he is. How'd you think he'll react to the amount of money you make, if he'll ever find out and bothers to convert it to Galleons? Or the clothes you wear on stage? Let alone the fans.”

Hermione sighed. “You're... oh damn, you're probably right. I've fancied him for ages, but I can see where you're going. And his whining gets on my nerves.”

“You know I'm not telling you what to do. Just... keep an open mind, will you? You told me that telling Ron Weasley was the thing you feared the most, and you know you can't keep this under wraps forever. During next summer the word will get around, and it doesn't take more than one loud Half-Blood to spread the word and the entire school will know when the next year starts.”

Hermione moaned and threw her head back against her pillow in exasperation, wincing at the pain. “I know. And I'm definitely not looking forward to Ron and Harry finding out. Harry hates when someone has a secret that they've not told him, and Ron... cripes. And the Professors, if they find out... Gods!”

“Relax, Mione G,” Justin said, patting her hand, “I'm sure it won't be all that bad.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Oh, before I forget. Can you give me my bag? It's under the table?”

Justin reached for the bag and handed it over. “What do you have in there, half the library?”

“Oh ha ha, very funny. I need my reading material, I was finished with the previous one already. But here...” she pulled a few papers from inside her bag. “Ah, here they are. These are for you. Two VIP-VIP-tickets for my concert in London and backstage passes. I thought you might want to take Susan on a date.”

“Oh wow, thank you, Hermione!” Justin beamed. “This is so awesome! Thanks ever so much. I'll definitely be there, and I hope Susan will too.”

“Good luck, Justin,” Hermione said with a smile.

“Thanks. Do you need anything? Any more books from the library, perhaps, in addition to those you're already carrying?”

“Oh, if you don't mind...”


	2. Chapter 2

After the term of 1996 had ended, Severus Snape returned to his house in Manchester exhausted, disappointed and furious. The year had been abysmal, culminating in the Potter brat leading his group of idiots into the bowels of the Ministry to the Department of Mysteries, chasing after a false vision sent by the Dark Lord to lure the boy there and to acquire the full prophecy. The team lead by Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix LeStrange had been unsuccessful in retrieving it, but only just: the prophecy had been destroyed , but many of the children had been injured. Lucius and Bellatrix had been sent to Azkaban, and the Dark Lord had been beyond furious after being forced to flee from Dumbledore and being seen by the Minister for Magic, Fudge. The fact that Sirius Black had died and fallen through the veil in the Death Chamber was a small consolidation, as far as Severus was concerned. 

Severus intended to spend the summer brewing as much as possible between the inevitable Summons from the Dark Lord and the times he'd spend recuperating from the torture inflicted by his Lord who was growing steadily more and more insane and unstable as time passed, but first, he needed to stock his pantry for the summer. This meant grocery shopping. 

“Mione G is coming to Manchester!”

It was the third time he'd heard a variant of that bloody sentence today, said in either awed or exhilarated tone. Severus rolled his eyes as the two teenaged girls glanced at him, squealed in fear and fled from the tall, black-haired man dressed in a black, severely cut Muggle suit. He scoffed and loaded his cart with toast, butter, crackers, pickles and meat preserves. He wasn't picky and he ate very little, just enough to sustain his strength while he brewed. 

“Did you head Mione G's tour will have its second gig in Manchester, right after London?” said another voice from another direction. 

While he packed his shopping he absent-mindedly gazed at the posters on the walls. There it was, a large poster of the starlet whose name he'd heard mentioned so many times: Mione G. She was young and pretty: a red microphone in her hand, a suggestive smile and a wink in the unmoving Muggle poster; ruby red lips, eyes shadowed, her brown hair is luscious ringlets, dressed in a corset top that revealed ample cleavage to a quite a decent set of breasts, and brown eyes that reminded him...

Holy fuck. Only then he realised he'd been staring at a poster of Hermione J. Granger, the insufferable know-it-all of Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken Severus very little time to research into the artist called 'Mione G': all it took was picking up a few music magazines. The teenage pop star preformed only during the summers due to attending a private school abroad (Severus scoffed internally: it was a good way to misdirect fans who might search all private schools in Scotland to find their idol). She'd done a few gigs last summer, though relatively small ones: this summer tour would contain three gigs in England, then one in Wales, one in Ireland (Dublin, to be precise), and then after a small break one in Germany, one in France, then the last one in Italy. 

Her music sold well: most of her concert tickets had already been booked in advance by her rabid fans. A music store he'd visited to buy a cassette tape of her music was also selling shirts and posters with her face and name on it. There were interviews in several magazines, though she kept a tight lip about her private life, stating that during the school year she concentrated on her studies, and that her favourite subjects were 'mathematics' and chemistry' — Severus guessed they'd translate as 'Arithmancy and potions', and wondered how she'd have defined Charms and Transfigurations, as she excelled on both. Of course Hermione Granger excelled in every school subject except Divinations... 

People mainly knew her only by her stage name, Mione G: the recording company kept her home town a secret to protect the privacy and safety of the young artist. A little further research showed that while she wasn't one of the topmost pop artists in Britain, she was fast on her way to become one, her songs steadily climbing to the top radio lists with every new release. Her stage presence was said to be wonderful and her vocal range impressive. 

Her posters were plastered everywhere: it would be only a matter of time before the word got out at Hogwarts, because sure as hell the other Muggle-Born students would be able to make the connection.

He had no television in his home at Spinner's End, but he walked past a Muggle electronics store and sure enough, the televisions were all displaying a music video of the famed Mione G. There was the Princess of Gryffindor, dressed in a skimpy royal blue... something, something that mostly resembled an indecent neglige. Hermione Granger, the bookwork usually dressed in her school uniform and baggy, frumpy sweaters, pivoting around a dancing pole and displaying miles to legs with toned calves and pert breasts just waiting to be... 

Severus closed his eyes and mentally wished to castrate himself for such thoughts. He'd never had an improper thought about a student in his life! Nor, come to think of it, did he tend to think of any woman like that, not in almost two decades. And, by Merlin, she was only sixteen, if his memory served! He ought to have cleansed his brain with bleach... 

After a day of research he took a few of the magazines and Apparated back to Hogwarts. Albus needed to know about this.


	4. Chapter 4

Albus was, fortunately, in his office, when Severus entered. On hindsight he could have contacted him by Floo beforehand, but he was rather rattled. 

“Severus!” Albus exclaimed, his eyes alert: Severus rarely showed up without a very good cause, and when he came unannounced, matters were usually urgent. “Is there a problem?”

“I believe so, Albus, though not urgent,” Severus replied and pulled out a magazine called “Smash Hits”. Miss Granger featured on the cover, but Severus opened the magazine from the article, which featured some quite revealing shots of Miss Granger in skimpy outfits, including an indecently short skirt. Severus tossed the magazine on the table in front of Albus and sat down, stretching his long legs.

Albus glanced at the magazine in confusion, then turned his gaze at Severus, only to do a most perfect double-take Severus had ever witnessed. It was not easy to surprise Albus Dumbledore, who'd amassed a wealth of experience and knowledge over his long lifespan, but in this instance his jaw actually dropped with an audible snap as he gazed on the princess of Gryffindor Tower in her attires, winking into a red microphone that was adorned with a picture of a lipstick kiss... in black. His eyes widened and he stared at the magazine in utter and most satisfying shock.

Albus was as queer as one could be so Severus knew it had nothing to do with his libido, although an small part of Severus' brain waved a hand in the air in a manner that reminded him of Miss know-it-all and squeaked that the sight of those long legs might be enough to drive a gay man to hump his mattress...

 

“This... this...” Albus stammered.

“Yes. Miss Granger, apparently, goes by the name of 'Mione G'. Her face is currently plastered in Muggle posters all over Great Britain and various other European countries, and adorns the covers of cassette tapes, CD's, t-shirts...” Severus tossed his cassette-tape on the desk: the cover featured a close-up of Miss Granger's eyes, heavy-lidded and surrounded by alluring sweat-drops.

“This... changes things,” Albus said, gaining his composure slowly.

“It will. The pure-blood brats or Death Eaters won't move much about in the Muggle-world, but it will be only a matter of time before the Dark Lord finds out. And the word will reach the school in September when the brats return. The Muggle-born and Half-blood students will stumble upon it, and most likely already have. I'm actually surprised it hasn't already been revealed. Does your precious Boy Wonder know?”

“He must know, they are, after all, best friends.”

Severus shrugged. “Probably true.”

“I think we need to have a discussion with Miss Granger. I have her address, I'm hoping we will reach her at her home. I need some time to think. Can you accompany me in, say, half an hour? I need some time to think.”

“I'll be in the dungeons going through inventory then,” Severus said, and left with a curt nod. 

Albus Dumbledore pressed his forehead to his palms, before he sighed and took out a book from a warded drawer and opened it, taking up his quill and began scribbling in numbers and symbols. 

Albus kept his skills in Arithmancy carefully hidden: he was a general known for his strategies, and he used Arithmancy to help him gain the upper hand. He was in no way omniscient, although many thought so, and he gladly supported the theories, but these books he scribbled... it was in the numbers. The probabilities of success...

He added the numbers for Hermione Granger's newly found skill and position to his calculations and stared at the result. Then he jotted down a long sequence of numbers for detailing reactions among the students, especially the troubled ones. Then more for the Death Eaters...

As numbers filled the page, Albus became almost frantic. Finally he stared at the result for a long while, checked his calculations, double-checked them...

This situation was promising. More than promising. He could use this. 

Albus Dumbledore could have been described as a man who ruthlessly used people to achieve his goals. He could have been called heartless and merciless, but Albus preferred the term 'pragmatic'.

Finally he realised he was already late. He quickly tossed the book back into the drawer, rose up and opened a drawer that was hidden inside a wall. He took three small silver objects from the drawer, pocketed them and departed his office.


	5. Chapter 5

Albus and Severus Apparated to London and continued with brooms to Hampstead. Albus was using a spell to get to the location, and Severus followed behind. He rarely flew these days, but flying was one of the things he'd enjoyed in his youth, even if he'd had to use the school's poor old broomsticks before he bought one of his own after he was employed at Hogwarts. 

Miss Granger certainly lived in a fine neighbourhood, Severus thought with a twinge of sour envy. Her parents were dentists, if he recalled correctly, and that alone would have meant good income, but Miss Granger probably earned hefty loads of Galleons... or pounds, of course, considering her recording company paid her in Muggle money.

Albus had transfigured their clothes temporarily to look like Muggle suits: Severus might had suggested that perhaps Albus could have changed the colour of his robes as well, but the possibility of someone seeing Albus Dumbledore in a gaudily yellow and pink Muggle suit was just too much to resist. A quick Disillusionment covered their flight until they reached their destination, where they shrank their brooms with a quick spell and pocketed them. 

The house that Albus headed to was a fine one: shining white stone building three stories high, with several windows, two balconies in the front on the second floor, and a large terrace on the first floor around the main entry. It had a relatively large garden in the front, with a gravel path leading to the terrace, another path that lead somewhere behind the house, and a set of large cast-iron gates in front. Severus was about to go push the buzzer he saw on the side, but Albus flicked his wand and the gates opened themselves silently. Albus, although he was half-blood, had never spent much time in the Muggle world, so he'd probably never heard of buzzers. 

Albus strolled calmly toward the back of the house along the gravel path. The garden behind the house was much larger: a finely kept example of an English garden, with a large sunken swimming pool in the side. And by the pool, basking in sunlight, laying on a sun chair in the tiniest green bikini, was Miss Granger. With a perfectly wonderful tan that made her skin seem to glow. She was reading a book, and a table next to her held a drink that Severus well and truly hoped was non-alcoholic.

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger!” the Headmaster announced happily, and Miss Granger jumped up with a frightened squeak, reaching for her wand, which was by her side in the chair. 

“Pr-pr-professor Dumbledore! Professor Snape!” Granger stuttered, quite shocked and surprised. The noise she'd made had alerted someone, because almost immediately a large and burly man dashed from inside the house with a furious expression on his face, and Severus prepared to stun the man, but Miss Granger reacted before anything could happen. 

“No, no, Tony, it's alright. These gentlemen are my Professors from, errr, from my school,” she placated the large man, who looked about as intelligent as Crabbe and Goyle but with thrice the amount of muscles: everything in him spoke the word 'bodyguard'. 

“Righto, Miss,” he said, eyeing both Snape and Dumbledore with distrust and Dumbledore's gaudy attire with apparent distaste, before he retreated back to the house.

“Well, this is a surprise, Headmaster, sir. Can I get you anything? Some drinks, perhaps? It really is quite hot. Harry is alright, isn't he? Has anything happened?”

“Everything is fine with Harry, Miss Granger, I assure you. I'm sure a nice drink wouldn't go amiss. It is rather a nice day,” Dumbledore replied with his eyes twinkling. Granger rang a little bell she had on her desk, and the bodyguard reappeared. 

“Tony, can you please get my Professors some drinks? What would you like, sir?” she asked them. 

Severus was, for a brief moment, worried that Albus would blurt out something about Ogden's Old Firewhisky, but to his relief he asked for some cocktail Severus had never heard of. Severus asked for a Rum Runner himself, one of the very few Muggle drinks he knew, and the man soon returned with their drinks: Albus had gotten something that was distinctly yellow in colour, his glass had a rim of sugar and there was a slice of orange in it, as well as a sparkly umbrella. Albus beamed and took a sip, then a second, humming appreciatively. Severus tasted his drink after casting a quick Charm to detect possible toxins, but only got a result for the obvious alcohol. The drink was good: the man obviously had skills.

“Tony has worked both as a bartender and a bouncer before he became my bodyguard,” Granger explained. 

“Having a bodyguard is wise, Miss Granger. He is a Muggle, then?”, Albus asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“He won't be any use to you when the Dark Lord sends his Death Eaters after you,” Severus quipped, and Miss Granger flushed.

“I don't think they...”

“Miss Granger,” Albus interjected, “Severus has told me that posters with your face can be found everywhere over Great Britain, along with other material. It won't take long until Voldemort finds out, if he hasn't already.”

Severus had flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, and Granger looked chastised. “I know. I'm hoping they won't mind me.”

“You're the Muggle-born best friend of Harry Potter, you silly girl. Of course they will!” Severus snapped irritably.

“Severus,” Albus said with a chiding tone, and continued: “We do care about your safety, Miss Granger. Now... I'm surprised that nobody seemed to know anything about this at Hogwarts. Your friends do know, I trust?”

Granger flushed even more and shook her head, her wild curls bouncing around like a soft cloud. “No, sir.”

“What? Truly?”

“I haven't told Harry, nor Ronald, sir. Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff knows though, he found out by accident last summer, but he's kept my secret. He thinks a couple of others might know or guess, but they haven't said anything if they do.”

“Why wouldn't you trust your friends, Miss Granger?” Albus asked.

“It's... mostly about Ronald, sir. He's always terribly jealous about, well, everything. I've done singing since I was very small, and then it just... snowballed? It just happened. I know Harry hates being kept out of any secrets but it's my life and my secret, and he doesn't really keep secrets from Ron.”

“I see,” Albus sighed. “Well, the secret will most likely come out this year anyway, I have no doubt quite a few of the students have already found out.” Granger nodded quietly. “Still, you do have the right for your own hobbies and life, Miss Granger. We only wish to protect you. Now, I understand you're about to have several concerts this summer?”

“Yes, sir. There's one in London tomorrow, then one in Manchester three days later, and then...”

Albus raised his hand to stop her. “Yes, yes. I am mostly concerned that you have a Muggle bodyguard but no magical means to defend yourself. I would like to send a member of the Order to stay with you for the summer, so that you have additional protection from any attacks. Would that be acceptable to you?”

Granger blinked several times. “Yes, sir, that's acceptable. My contract allows a guardian to travel with me free of charge, since I'm underage. One of my parents would have had come with me, but truthfully it would have been an inconvenience, since they have to run their practice. I can introduce him or her as a relative, an aunt, uncle or cousin. Will Tonks be coming with me? Or Remus?”

“No, I believe I have Severus will,” Albus said, and Granger's eyes widened. 

“WHAT?” Severus asked loudly.

“Yes, Severus, you.”

“I cannot spend my entire summer babysitting a Gryffindor! I have to research, and I will be Summoned several times during the summer, you must know that! And she'll be spending time abroad. I cannot reach the Dark Lord in time without serious repercussions if I try to travel from anywhere except Britain when he Summos me. He'll expect me to be at either at my home or at Hogwarts, you know that!” Severus was practically shouting. 

“I know, Severus,” Albus said, trying to placate the irate Potions Master. “You can postpone your research, you could use a holiday anyway. As for the Summons, I have a solution.” Albus dug three small medallions from his pocket. They were silver in colour and carved with various runes. “These are three connected and Charmed devices of my own invention. I have kept them a secret for decades. One was once carried by my brother, the second one was mine, and the third... well, I won't get into that now.” Albus drew a breath. 

“These three medallions are connected. The biggest one, this one here, is the most important one. The two others will draw it and its carrier to them in Apparition: simply put, the one who holds this one can Disapparate while holding this medallion in his or her palm, and the medallion will draw them to whichever of the other two medallions is further away. It's a Charm combining something from a Portkey, you see, but it's not a Portkey as such. It's much more pleasant and the Ministry cannot track it. I will be carrying one of the smaller medallions, and Miss Granger will have the other: when you are Summoned, you will simply Disapparate while holding the medallion, and you will appear right next to me instantly, no matter how far around the globe you are. When you need to get back to Miss Granger, you will simply Disapparate again holding it, and you will return to either me, if she is closer to where you currently are, or to her, if my location is closer. This way Voldemort will never know you've been abroad, as you will each time arrive in time, by Apparition instead of a Portkey, and from Hogwarts, or where ever I am at that point.”

“I see. You're leaving me no choice, are you? Can't anyone else do this? Tonks, like Miss Granger suggested, for example?”

“Nymphadora has her duties as an Auror, Severus,” Albus reminded him. “We will collect your things from your home, things like clothes, perhaps some brewing equipment and supplies, and then you'll return here. Is this fine with you, Miss Granger?”

Granger looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights with her widened brown eyes, but she quietly nodded. She was, after all, a very obedient student and not one to argue with the Headmaster. 

“I think Severus could be introduced as your uncle, Miss Granger?” Albus suggested.

“I think cousin is better, sir. He doesn't look old enough to be an uncle,” Granger countered, and Severus felt flattered at that, though he knew he could very well have been her father by age.

“As you wish, Miss Granger,” Albus said, and stood up. “We will return shortly with Severus' belongings. Do you happen to have a spare room, or a sofa...?”

“We have plenty of spare bedrooms,” Miss Granger said with a smile. “I'll prepare one. And I'll make tea for when you return. My parents will be home by then. I'll have to retire early though, the concert in London is tomorrow at eight in the evening.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger. We will return very shortly,” Albus promised.


	6. Chapter 6

“Have you gone absolutely around the bend, Albus?” Severus seethed. “I've told you Pettigrew is in my house!”

“We'll need to get rid of him,” Albus said calmly. “We will go in, catch him and take him to Alastor. He'll know what to do. I also need to interrogate him. Miss Granger's safety is much too important to risk because of Pettigrew. You'll tell Tom that Pettigrew grew bored and tended to wander out of your home, and that he simply had disappeared when you got back. You'll also tell him that I've ordered you to stay at Hogwarts most of the summer.”

“Fine,” Severus snapped as they Apparated to Spinner's End in Manchester. Quietly the men entered the old, dusty and worn house with their wands drawn. 

Pettigrew was caught unawares: upon seeing Dumbledore he squeaked and tried to change form, but Albus caught the rat immediately and stunned him, tying him up with a Spell that kept in unconscious and bound. Albus sent his Patronus to Moody and Disapparated, promising to return shortly, while Severus packed some of his clothes and plenty of books: he had an Undetectable Extension Charm on his bag, which didn't look suspiciously small but could hold an amazing amount of things. Albus soon returned.

“What about Lupin's Wolfsbane?” Severus asked, hoping beyond all measure that it would convince the old coot to give up. “He'll be a liability to the Order without it.”

“Come now, Severus. You'll have time to brew it, don't worry,” Albus said with an infuriating twinkle in his eyes. “A holiday will do you good. Do you need anything more?”

“No. I am not carrying my laboratory equipment or ingredients with me. If I'll be kept too busy, Lupin will have to go without his Wolfsbane and be locked up,” he threatened, but Albus merely chuckled. “Come now, my boy, we should get back to Miss Granger. I daresay you'll have a much more pleasant summer with her than here.”

 

************************

 

Disapparating back to the Granger residence, the two men entered through the main entry by Severus' insistence. The door was opened by a Muggle man who was apparently Mr Granger: he was older than Severus had expected, by his estimation closer to sixty years of age. He politely greeted them with a smile and offered his hand in greeting them.

“Welcome to our home, Professors. My daughter has told me you'll be taking care of her for the summer. My wife and I thank you, it'll make our lives much easier. Please, do come in. I'm John Granger, and this,” he said, gesturing toward a woman who'd just entered the foyer “is my wife Helen.”

The woman resembled her daughter: she was tall, lithe, and her hair was long and curly, and most likely a bushy mess if let loose, but at the moment it was carefully combed and arranged to a tight hair-do. She was between forty and fifty, probably closer to fifty, Severus estimated, as he squeezed her hand in greeting when Albus introduced them both.

“We're very grateful you would consider our daughter's safety,” Mr Granger said gravely as he led their guests further inside the house. The house was spacious and decorated with fine-looking furniture, both antique pieces and modern design in a tasteful mix. The rooms were well lit and spotlessly clean, and delicious scents wafted from where they were going. The dining room had a large table, long enough to seat twelve people: the table was laden with a delicious light meal. Miss Granger herself arrived from somewhere inside the house, and they all took seats by the table. Mrs Granger served the guests, and soon they were all dining: the food was delicious, but obviously made with health in mind. Severus felt a twinge of shame over his crooked and yellowed teeth remembering that Mr and Mrs Granger were dentists, but shoved the thought carefully away: politely neither of them made any remarks or gave any indication on his teeth anyway.

“This pie is delicious, I must say, Mrs Granger,” Albus politely said.

“Please, call me Helen,” Mrs Granger said, “we care very little for titles.”

“Thank you. You may call me Albus, of course,” Albus replied. Mr and Mrs Granger also changed similar courtesies with Severus.

“As John said earlier, we're so glad you'll be there to watch over our daughter, Severus,” Helen Granger said. “We'd have very little chance of defending her against magical attacks, and being away from the practice would leave the other one swamped with work, especially when Hermione needs to travel abroad.”

“We'll attend the concert in London, of course,” John Granger added. “Hermione, can you fill Severus up on the procedures? Severus, you do have a passport, don't you?”

“I don't,” Severus admitted, “but I can create myself one. It won't take long, if I can see one for the model. Muggle passports aren't really necessary when one travels by Portkey.”

“I can show you mine later,” John replied, obviously unperturbed. “You'll go to London by car. A limo will pick you up in the afternoon, I think?” 

“Yes,” Miss Granger said. “Tony will accompany me, of course. The concert won't be until eight and I won't have to sing until about half past eight, there's a warm-up act before mine, but I'll need to run a quick soundcheck at around six. I'll have a talk with my manager when we'll get there: he'll make changes to the rider to the next gigs for what you'd like.”

“Rider?” Severus asked uncertainly.

“Ah, yes, it's a sort of... well, I'm allowed to make a list of requirements. They include technical things, but also things like what we'll eat and drink before, after and during the concert. I'll also give you a backstage pass and tickets, if you'd like to follow the concert from a seat instead of from the back.”

“I think from the back will suffice,” Severus said. 

“All right then. I can show you a copy of the rider later: if there's nothing on it that you'd like to eat or drink, I can phone an assistant and have them pick it up. I'll also have to introduce you to the staff, especially the security manager Bob.”

“Hermione suggested we introduce you as her cousin, Severus,” Helen Granger added. “I think you could be introduced as the son of my older sister Christine. They don't know her last name, so you can just use your own, if that is alright?”

“Fine,” said Severus, feeling almost overwhelmed. He was unused to long and friendly discussions over a meal, which was almost over anyway. 

“Thank you, John, Helen,” Albus thanked their hosts. “Everything was sublime. I'm afraid I must head back to Hogwarts, but I will drop by later in the summer, if you accept?”

“Of course, Albus, you are welcome any time!” Helen said with a smile as they all stood up. “Hermione, would you show Severus his bedroom? You'll probably want to practice tonight, too?”

“Yes, mum,” Miss Granger replied and shook the Headmaster's hand as he departed with wishes for good luck.

“Your room is on the second floor, sir,” she told Severus, as she led him through the house and up the stairs. Severus did his best not to stare at the wonderfully heart-shaped bottom that bobbled up the stairs in front of him, and swallowed thickly.

“Miss Granger, if I am to pose as your cousin, you'll have to call me by my first name, and I will have to do the same, although if there are any slip-ups, we can explain that I'm also your teacher at your school, which is why we keep mixing up formal and informal titles.”

“That's a good idea, sir,” she replied uncertainly. “Here it is, third door to the left.” She opened the door to a spacious bedroom. White walls and dark wooden furniture, the curtains in the window, the carpet and the quilt on the bed were a mix of white and dark blue. “The bathroom is behind that door over there, and that door leads to a closet,” she said, gesturing. “If you need anything, you can ask any one of us. My bedroom in right next to yours, the fourth door to the left, and my parents' bedroom in at the end of the corridor. Tony lives in the first bedroom to the right, and my practice studio is on the third floor. Would you like a tour of the house now or later?”

“Later would be fine, thank you, Miss Granger. I should like to rest a bit.”

“Very well, sir. And if you need anything, just ask. We usually eat a light supper at around eight, I'll alert you when it's served,” she said, leaving Severus to his bedroom.


	7. Interludes and Intermissions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for several of the commenters for the ideas they've give me. <3

Harry Potter had just been cleaning his uncle's house at number 4, Privet Drive, when he heard music from his cousin Dudley's room. Usually Dudley Dursley played heavy rock or punk-style music, but this was clearly pop: the vocalist was female, and the voice somehow strangely familiar. Hopelessly curious as always, Harry crept closer to Dudley's bedroom and peeked through the door, which was half open. 

The first thing that drew his attention was a poster featuring his best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger. Hermione in a white corset top that revealed her cleavage and quite a bit of breasts that Harry had never even noticed Hermione had: the poster was Muggle and unmoving, but in it Hermione was winking and held a microphone that was the exact same colour as her lipstick. A big, bold text “Mione G” was written under it.

The second thing he realised was that the voice echoing from Dudley's CD-player was Hermione's. She was singing about love in the summer by the beach. 

The third thing he noticed was that Dudley Dursley was having a wank and moaning Hermione's nickname. “Oh Mione!” he howled, and Harry reacted in his usual way: 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

 

**********************

 

Draco Malfoy was lying on his bed at Malfoy Manor. The house that had been his home since infancy, the place that he'd loved, felt oppressive and cold, like the presence of the Dark Lord was polluting the very air and the walls of the house.

Draco was sobbing quietly. His arm ached: he'd been branded by the Dark Lord, given the Dark Mark though he'd never wanted it. He had had no warning: his father had been carted to Azkaban, and Draco had been dragged in front of the Dark Lord and forced to torture a young Muggle man with a repeated Cruciatus Curse, until Aunt Bellatix had been allowed to kill the man with an Avada. Draco detested the insane glint in his aunt's eyes as she giggled manically before casting the curse. 

Then, without a warning, he'd been given the Dark Mark that seared his arm with horrifying pain, after which his mother was allowed to pull and drag her weeping son from the room to rest and recover. The proud Narcissa Malfoy tried to stifle her sobs and held her son close to her chest, but Draco was too bitter to stand even her company for long. He was curled in a fetal position and felt like death might be a viable option. 

He'd never wanted the Dark Mark. He'd been taught to believe in blood purity and the inferiority of the Muggle-borns, but it was hard to believe in it when the Mudblood Granger constantly bested his grades in every single class he attended and then some, and did so with ease that staggered him. She was plain compared to most girls, never bothering with make-up, clothes or her hair, but there was something about Granger that did not speak of an inferior being. She had also slapped him on the face in their fourth year at Hogwarts, hard enough to land him on his arse, a feat that had never been done before or since, and in some level Draco had a grudging respect for her, though he'd never admit it out loud. 

Draco's thoughts were disturbed by an owl knocking on the window. He recognised it as Theodore Nott's owl. Draco opened the window and took the scroll from the owl, handing him an owl treat and watched the bird fly away, before he opened the scroll.

It contained a Muggle poster. The poster featured Hermione Granger, in make-up, in very revealing clothes, looking so hot that he suspected that the paper might spontaneously combust. 

Draco Malfoy's eyes bulged and his jaw dropped open with an audible snap. 

 

**********************

Albus Dumbledore stood back from his Pensieve and sighed. The memory that Slughorn had given him was modified, but he already knew what young Tom had asked. Tom Riddle, Voldemort, had made several Horcruxes. Harry had destroyed one in his second year, a diary that had once belonged to him, and Albus had a pretty good idea of a second one and where it was hidden: the Gaunt shack at Little Hangleton. 

He'd have to find it and destroy it. The sword of Gofdrick Gryffindor could do it, he knew. 

Tomorrow, he decided, tomorrow evening he'd go.


	8. Chapter 8

Dudley Dursley was flummoxed and flabbergasted, though he wouldn't have known what either of those words actually meant. Neither did Harry, so the word he used in his head was 'stunned'. After Harry had blown his top and let out some steam, then reined in his temper, the two boys sat in Dudley's room, Dudley on the bed, Harry on the floor. Luckily for Harry, neither Petunia nor Vernon Dursley were home when Harry had raised his voice. 

He half expected threats from Dudley, but since he'd saved Dudley from the Dementors last year, Dudley had tended to avoid him. Harry still wasn't sure if Dudley was truly blaming him for the attack or just embarrassed for being saved by his scrawny cousin, but right now that didn't seem to matter. Dudley's eyes were wide with wonder.

“You're friends with Mione G?”

“Yeah. She's one of my best friends at school.”

“Your... wait, what?! She a wizard too?”

“They're called witches, but yeah, she is. Powerful one too.”

“Can you get me her autograph?” 

“I... guess? I can send Hedwig to ask for one. She should be home. Or, anyway, I presumed she was. Hedwig will find her though. I need to write her anyway...”

“Is she seeing anyone?”

“What?” Harry blinked several times. 

“Does she have a bloke?” Dudley said slower, as if Harry were daft.

“Ummm... no, not really,” Harry said, thinking about Ron but deciding that mentioning the crush was probably a bad strategy, and anyway, they weren't dating, not really.

“Can you set me up with her?”

“WHAT?! No I can't bloody well set you up! And what'd aunt Petunia say anyway? She's a 'freak', isn't she?!” Harry bellowed, loosing his cool again. His temper had gone from bad to worse, especially since Sirius died. 

“No she ain't,” Dudley said quietly. “She's... she's real hot.”

Blushing was not characteristic to Dudley Dursley, but blush he did. His face became puce and splotchy, his eyes were cast down and he seemed to squirm uncomfortably. Since he took up boxing, Dudley had lost weight but gained muscle mass: he was a really big bloke, a bully, about as daft as a piece of brick, but right then and there Dudley looked about as helpless as a child. For the first time in his life he felt a twinge of pity for his cousin.

“I... I'm not sure. I can try and ask if she'd meet us. I mean, she'll be at King's Cross at the end of summer, I guess, but you know uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia never come inside the station, let alone... but I can write and tell her you said hi, yeah?”

“...Thanks...” Dudley said rather quietly. “Wanna tell me more about 'er?”

 

*****************************

 

Bellatrix LeStrange banged on the door for the third time to no avail, and some paint flaked off it and fell on the ground.

“He is not at home, Bella,” Narcissa Malfoy said.

“I can fucking see that!” Bellatrix screeched furiously.

“We will come back later,” Narcissa said uneasily, although she twisted her hands nervously.

“Yes we will, Cissy. I don't trust that snivelling coward. He's a traitor to the Dark Lord! And Wormtail should be here if he isn't! Something's wrong, I tell you! Snape is a cursed traitor to our cause and our Lord!” 

“So you keep telling me, but I need him to protect my Draco. Come, Bella. We will come back later,” Narcissa said and Disapparated.

 

*****************************

 

Severus had been surprised by how well he got along with the Grangers. Not being able to brew at will bothered him occasionally, but he'd brought reading material, parchment, ink and quills. The room was very comfortable, much more comfortable than his house or his quarters at Hogwarts, and the food had been quite excellent. 

The standard fare at Hogwarts was good, but quite often greasy, filled with sugar and aimed to please the undefined taste buds of teenagers. The Grangers appreciated excellent food and did not abhor spices. The supper consisted of a light but delicious soup and hickory smoked salmon with lemon, a light sauce on the side, and baked potatoes that were served with Spanish aioli. The dessert was a soft and dark chocolate mousse that felt feather light and melted in his mouth. The breakfast had been a bit more traditional with eggs, fruit, bacon and toast.

The lunch had been superb: nice and thick medium-cooked steaks with two options of sauce, one creamy and peppery, and one with garlic. The potatoes were fried with garlic and served with caramelized onions, and Severus found he ate more than he usually did at Hogwarts and definitely far more than he ate during the summers, when he usually settled for tinned food and crackers when his hunger didn't allow him to brew or read. 

The Grangers had given him a tour of their luxurious house and offered him the freedom to use anything and everything freely as long as he resided with them. They were very friendly and welcoming people who obviously adored their daughter, though they didn't fully understand her or life at Hogwarts, and Severus found himself answering many of their questions about the culture and life in the Wizarding world. John Granger, especially, seemed infinitely curious, and it was obvious that Miss Granger had inherited his trait.

The bodyguard Tony ate all his meals in his room, and in the evening he traded shifts with another big and burly man called Hank. Hank had eyed him just as suspiciously, but he, too, was polite. In the morning a third man had taken the post: he was, apparently, called Alfonse, and he was of Italian heritage. Tony had returned in the afternoon to his post.

A limousine had picked the three up afternoon. The car was luxurious with darkened windows, though the drinks served were non-alcoholic for the teenage star. At the concert hall Severus had been introduced to the head of security as well as several other key members, given a staff tag to carry around his neck, and shooed to the side as the staff ushered Granger to the stage for a soundcheck.

She really had a wonderful voice, Severus had to admit, as she sang short samples to the microphone at various spots. The stage bustled, but it seemed quite organized: musicians and stage-hands were setting up instruments and technical equipment, there were countless wires snaking to every direction. A simple 'Sonorous' would have done the work for so many of these electronic devices, Severus smirked internally.

He suddenly felt a stab of pain on his arm as his mark burned. He quickly strode over to Granger. “I'm being Summoned,” he whispered lowly, “I have to go. I'm going to test the device and Apparate to Albus first, he should be at Hogwarts so if I'm being spied upon, they'll only spot me coming from the gates of Hogwarts. I need to go.”

The girl nodded, and Severus strode quickly towards the waiting room, preparing to transfigure his clothes and to return his hidden mask and his black robes to their right size.

 

*****************************

 

Albus Dumbledore had been busy. It'd taken him quite some time to break through the protections surrounding the remains of Gaunt's shack, but he'd succeeded, and he was staring at the ring. The ring of Marvolo Gaunt. And on that ring, on that ring was the Resurrection Stone, one of the Deathly Hallows. Unexpected.

Ariana... he could see Ariana again. After all these years, Ariana, his beloved sister...

So tempted, so sorely tempted he extended his finger to slip on the ring...

At that very same moment Severus Apparated right next to him. He seemed disoriented at first, confused by his surroundings. Albus had paused his actions. Severus' eyes hit the ring that Albus was about to slip into his finger, then widened in horror, and he slammed his hand against Albus. The ring slipped from his grasp. 

“Are you insane?!” Severus bellowed. “Are you bloody fucking insane?! There's a Dark Curse on that thing! What were you THINKING?!”

“I... I...” Albus stammered, “I was tempted, sorely tempted. Severus, I believe you might have saved me from at least considerable pain, maybe more.”

“Most bloody likely more. Are you suicidal?! Don't touch that thing!”

“I won't,” Albus promised. With a heavy heart he took up the sword of Gryffindor and raised it.

The ring began to whisper. It tempted him, made promises, lured... it seemed to pull on everything in him, promised him power over death, greatness, triumph, everything he ever wanted... if he would only take it and possess it and slip it to...”

Albus howled and struck, and a great black mist pooled out of the ring into the air and let out a horrifying howl. The men straggled back, Albus fell on his knees. 

“Is it gone?” he asked, panting.

“Yes, Severus replied, casting a quick diagnostic spell to confirm it. “The Dark Curse is gone, but you still should definitely not try to wear what's left of it, just to be sure, but it's safe to touch. Albus, I'm being Summoned, I need to go. I'll come to Hogwarts when I'm done. We need to talk.”

Severus raised his wand to his arm and Disapparated with a loud crack. Albus picked up the ring gingerly with a handkerchief he'd Conjured covering his fingers. The ring was now broken, but there was a light rattling sound and the Resurrection Stone fell to the floor. Albus picked it up and rose slowly to his feet. He stared at the Stone for a while, then turned it thrice on his palm.

“Ariana...”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quotes between *-marks (partially modified) from Rowling, J. K., 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows', Bloomsbury Publishing: London, 2007, chapter 'The Prince's Tale', pages 547.

Half an hour later Severus Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and made his way to Headmaster's office. Albus was in, the now broken ring was on the his desk, and Albus was gazing at it thoughtfully.

“Severus,” he greeted. “Anything new to report?”

“Some. I already told you he set Draco Malfoy some task. He did not tell anyone what that task was, and he expects him to fail, at which point he will be punished. It's a punishment for his parents: to watch their son fail and and pay the price. But he was also branded with the Dark Mark.”

Albus sighed. “*He plans to have that poor Malfoy boy murder me.*”

Severus nodded stiffly.

“*Your first priority*, once the term commences,* is to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as himself. * But... I believe Miss Granger might sway the situation.”

“Granger? How? She's a Muggle-born. She'll have no sway over Draco or his group.”

“Do not underestimate her. Stars like her carry a vast influence over their peers. She is a valuable asset...”

“An asset? Albus, she is sixteen. She is a student, a child, and you cannot use...”

“She's a young woman, and in this war, the Greater Good...”

“Fuck the 'Greater Good'. Her life is at risk and you'll risk it further if you allow her to...”

“Severus, be silent. I have made my decision.”

“Fine,” Severus spat. “I've had to leave the Granger chit alone and unsupervised for quite a while now. I suggest you stop trying to kill yourself with cursed objects, or preferably get someone else to babysit her. And what the hell was that ring all about? Have you truly lost your senses, old man, slipping on an obviously cursed ring?”

“It was part of the curse, to lure whoever touched it to put it on. I was tempted and I almost failed. I am in your debt, Severus. I ran some Charms over it. The curse would have killed me painfully if you hadn't stopped me.”

“It was pure dumb luck I happened to be Summoned at that exact moment. I strongly suggest you don't try something so utterly idiotic again, Albus. And why were you there, where ever we were? What was that ring all about?”

“I will be more careful in the future. And no, I cannot talk about the ring, not yet. It was a nasty object, but it's inert now.”

“Fine,” Severus snapped furiously. “I need to go back to Granger.”

“Yes, of course, Severus. You can use the device and Apparate from here.”

“Won't the anti-Apparition Wards stop me?”

“No, the device is strong enough to get you through any Wards. I should have mentioned in earlier. It may be useful if you're in a bad spot.”

Severus sighed. “Fine. I'll go now. I'll report if something else happens.”

“Yes yes, off you go, my boy, off you go,” Albus said. Severus Disapparated, and Albus turned his gaze on the ring once more, before he took out the Resurrection Stone from his pocket. He needed a place for it, to keep it safe. A Deathly Hallow, the third one. His wand was the Elder Wand, and now he had the Resurrection Stone. Harry had the Cloak of Invisibility, and again he felt tempted, so very tempted. If he asked, Harry would lend it to him. Give it to him if he asked. He'd be the Master of Death.

He and Gellert had dreamt of that moment, that possibility. Sharing kisses by the fireside they'd dreamt of ruling, being the joint Masters of Death together. His dreams had been dashed, shattered, and the Deathly Hallows were so tempting.

Should he, could he, would he? 

Not now. Perhaps later, perhaps never? 

For now, he needed a place to hide the Stone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a musician or a performer, so I'm writing as someone who has no clue of life backstage. Feel free to kick me if you spot any errors. Honestly, I appreciate any notifications as learning experience :)

Severus Apparated in one of the least-used back rooms designated for Granger's use for tonight, prepared to Obliviate any Muggles who might have seen him. He was in luck: he was alone, though he heard voices from the other rooms. Quickly he strode to Miss Granger's waiting lounge. Granger was there, warming up her voice: she sang scales up and down, sang short pieces of songs and looked quite nervous and almost nauseated.

“Stage fright, Granger?” Severus asked before the girl could open her mouth to ask inane questions about matters that she had no business prying into.

“Some. But it's mostly about an owl I received. From Harry.” 

“I believe a message from Saint Potter would make anyone nauseous,” Severus quipped, and Granger glared at him.

“No. He just... he found out, about me, singing here. He'd pretty furious.”

“The boy needs to control his emotions. I've told him again and again.”

“I guess. It could have been worse, I guess. But his cousin, eww...”

Severus cocked his eyebrow in query.

“Harry caught his cousin, you know, doing... oh, never mind,” the girl said flushing in a manner that suggested she was trying to imitate a beetroot, “it's really nothing. But he wants Harry to set us up. Me. With his cousin Dudley. Eww.”

Severus let out a chocking sound and bit the inside of his cheek. He'd met Petunia Dursley and had seen Vernon Dursley once, from afar: if their son resembled them, he would certainly be no dream lover. “You've met him then?”

“Dudley Dursley? Gods no, but I've heard enough. Anyway, there are crazed fans all the time asking for a date. I just don't want Harry to get in trouble with his cousin.”

“You can't sacrifice everything for your Saint Potter, Granger. He should man up. What are you going to do, become his cousin's girl just to improve his life outside school?” That earned him another vicious glare. Granger was actually quite adorable when she glared. Severus suppressed the thought viciously.

Luckily just at that moment, before the situation could escalate to harsher words, a previously unknown woman entered the room. She was blonde, in her late 30's, dressed in basic jeans and wore a Mione G - t-shirt, which were regularly used by her crew. “Hello! Can we start on your costume now?” she said, waving her hand, and glancing at Severus curiously.

“Oh, of course!” Granger said. “Janice, this is my cousin Severus, he'll be keeping an eye on me for the summer. Severus, this is Janice, she does my make-up tonight.

“How do you do, Severus,” the girl greeted him and shook his hand, though she eyed him with obvious distaste. Nothing new to Severus: his looks had never been in his favour. 

“Severus, feel free to rest here. There are snacks on that table on the right, and cool drinks and some cooled snacks in the fridge next to it. There's a microwave over there on the left in case you want to warm something up, and there's a coffee maker... I have real brewed tea on the rider, but it's gone cold, they should bring another one soon though. I have to get dressed.” Granger snatched a stuffed baguette wrapped in plastic from the fridge, and Janice, the daft-looking make-up-bimbo, ushered her charge through a doorway to another room, though Granger stopped her from closing the door completely.

Severus took a baguette as well and tasted some of the chocolate biscuits. The tea arrived in less than ten minutes, brought by a bustling older woman, who also took a cup to Granger as she sat in the make-up chair with her face covered in various substances. Soon Janice departed, replaced by a woman called Maureen, around the age on thirty, with dark brown hair, with her hands filled with scraps of clothing so she didn't shake his hand, and eyeing Severus with almost the exact same expression as Janice. This time the door closed: Granger was being outfitted to her costume. 

Idly Severus picked up a letter from the table. Written on a Muggle paper and not parchment and with blue ink that Severus could see had come from a ballpoint pen, he recognised Happy Potter's scrawls immediately. Curiously he read it: he was a spy, after all, his task was to watch over Potter and now, unfortunately, also Granger, and, frankly, if she didn't want it read, she should have hidden it or destroyed it.

_“Hermione,”_ the letter red,

_“I just found Dudley wanking in front of your poster and whining your name. What the fuck, Hermione! How could you keep this a secret from me?! We're supposed to the friends! Friends trust each other! How could you bloody keep something like this hidden from us? Is this why you didn't want to go to the Burrow like Ron asked? Blimey, he's going to explode when he hears this!_

_I would have actually sent you a Howler if I could do magic at home. Bloody hell, Hermione! This is huge bloody shock. And I really didn't want to see Dudley getting off to a picture of you and with your song playing. Bloody hell. We really need to talk. And aren't you in danger from Voldemort?!_

_Harry_

_PS: Dudley asked for an autograph from you. He actually suggested I set you two up on a date. I don't recommend it. The idea is just wrong in so many levels, but when he heard you're a witch he actually told me you're not a freak, like her calls every other witch and wizard, but 'hot' (his words, not mine).”_

Maureen and Janice both had a walkie-talkie: most of the crew carried one. The device let out irritating cracks and screeches and on and off someone said something shortly. Once someone swore loudly and another man yelled, and a while later the problem had obviously been fixed, because the first person gave an all-clear sign in a calmer voice. Maureen gave a status report with an air of self-importance before she declared her work done and went off. 

Granger emerged from her dressing room wearing an indecently short green skirt, knee-high leather boots and a white top that lifted her medium-sided breasts up. All of these were adorned with sequins. Her wild hair had been combed to ringlets with what looked like an inordinate amount of some Muggle product, and partially held up by sequin-encrusted clips. 

“Well, I'm ready for the stage,” Granger said. “I should be on in twenty or so. You can stay here if you want, or watch from the backstage, from the side. The full show is meant to be viewed from the front, but you can see much more of the technical stuff from the side.”

“I think the side will do, Granger. I am here to keep an eye on you, not to 'enjoy' the music,” he said with a sneer and a light infliction on the word 'enjoy' to make sure she understood that the music would not be something he'd enjoy. Her eyes narrowed but she made no further comments on that. 

“There will be a short break about half way, where I'll have to quickly change my dress for the second half. And after the show... well, I invited Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones,” Granger rambled. “I'm not sure if they're coming, but I gave them tickets and backstage passes for a date. Justin's fancied Susan for ages...”

“Fine,” Severus said curtly. Someone knocked loudly on the door and a man's voice called “fifteen minutes!” before the steps retraced at a jogging pace.


	11. Chapter 11

The concert seemed to go without a hitch. The crowd cheered, howled and screamed manically, and the noise 'backstage', as everyone called it, was nigh deafening: Severus gladly accepted a pair of ear plugs. It was interesting to follow the show from backstage, where various stagehands operated the Muggle lights, sound equipment and countless other things: a load of people invisibly working while the audience only paid attention to the band and the young girl who danced and sang on the stage, as well as her group of four choreographed dancers, two young men and two women, all in their twenties. 

Granger was worth looking at though, and Severus had to use all his skills to hide his hunger as he watched her. It wouldn't do for anyone to catch him ogling her, and even less when he'd been introduced as Granger's cousin. Pure-bloods might have married their cousins on occasion, but this was the Muggle Britain. A very treacherous part of his brain kept screaming 'age of consent is sixteen!', while the other parts chanted the words 'underage' and 'student' in a harmony that would have left a Gregorian choir to shame. 

Of course, Severus Snape, aged 36 and a virgin, could have rivalled many a Gregorian monk in virtue, though not exactly by design. Internally he cursed himself: a lecherous old man, he cursed, pathetic, while he watched as her hips gyrated around a pole, and a wave of furious jealousy struck him as the two male dancers carefully carried her around the stage as she sang and the blue and green lights flashed like spells. He kept his hand on his wand and his eye trained on the crowd and kept fighting back his reactions that said that any sudden burst or flash on light might have been a harmful or potentially fatal Curse.

During a short intermission, when only the band played, she'd changed her short skirt and top to a form-fitting royal blue dress, black stockings and blue shoes: her curls were partially shaken down. Her songs were varied: mostly of pop- and rock-variety, but some clearly written with quite a bit of humour in mind. The first song she sang after her costume change had been different: the stage had been darkened, then illuminated slowly with blue light, and some device flooded the stage with mist. The song was melancholic and sad and spoke about a broken heart. Then, as the song concluded, the beat suddenly changed, and she launched to a much happier tone. The speed and tempo of the songs increased every time until finally she concluded the last song with a high pitch, jumped in the air, where the two male dancers caught her and held her up like an idol above the excitedly howling crowd. 

She bowed twice, then did an encore: both of her guitarists and the bass-player abandoned their instruments, leaving the drummer and the woman playing an electric violin to keep the tune, and the band and the four backround dancers danced something resembling an Irish jig while Granger danced with them, singing a medley from some of her songs. Finally, she blew kisses to the crowd, told them “Thank you, London! I love you!” and waved as she exited the stage.

The crew was now at work disbanding the trappings. Severus waited in another room as Janice and Maureen removed the make-up and costume she'd been sporting, and fixed her hair, which had already started falling off its form of pins and fixatives.

Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones were soon admitted to Granger's rooms: Granger had given them backstage passes before the school ended. Severus had debated between keeping in a separate room during their visit to keep his presence hidden, and staying in the lounge room for the entertainment value of seeing the shock on their faces, but the duo arrived faster than he'd anticipated. One of the security guards escorted the two students in, and the shock on their faces was almost priceless when they witnessed their most feared and hated Professor lounging in a comfortable chair with his long legs stretched and crossed at ankles, dressed in Muggle clothes.

Although Severus rarely, if ever, trusted anyone, he would have made a bet that these two would never betray anyone to the Dark Lord: Finch-Fletchley was a Muggle-born and several members of the Bones- family, including her uncle Edgar, had been killed by Death Eaters during the first war. Both were also Hufflepuffs, loyal to the core, and if they'd made friends with Granger, then they'd probably stick by her side through thick and thin. 

“Pro... Professor?” Finch-Fletchley stutterd.

“Mr Finch-Fletchley. Miss Bones.” Severus acknowledged them with a curt nod. “Miss Granger is getting changed, but she should be right over.”

“Did I hear Justin and Susan?” Granger called and popped her curly hair through the doorway. “Hi guys! Welcome! Did you like the show?”

“Yes, yes we did! Thank you so much, Hermione!” Bones gushed. “Justin said you gave him the tickets and the backstage passes for our date. I was ever so surprised but it was so wonderful! I had no idea you're a singer. It was awesome! I've never been to a Muggle concert, but it was amazing!”

“Thanks, Susan,” Granger said with a smile and hugged Bones. “And Justin! Welcome, both of you. I won't be long now, I just need to finish here. Please do take a seat. There are snacks on the table and in the fridge, and cold pop in the fridge too, Professor Snape will show you.”

“May I see your dresses, Hermione? The outfits you wore looked so amazing!” Bones asked, and Granger showed her to her dressing room, calling for Justin to take a seat while he waited. The two girls chattered about the attires as Severus gestured Finch-Fletchley toward the fridge. He could see the curly-haired Hufflepuff was bursting with curiosity to find out what the dreaded Potions Master was doing in the dressing room of their classmate, but he refused pander to his curiosity. The boy took a packet of crisps and a bottle of coke, glancing at Severus in a way that he probably presumed was surreptitious but which in reality was anything but.

Bones and Granger soon emerged from the dressing room, Granger was now sporting her usual in jeans and t-shirt. “Guys, I have to ask you a favour though,” she said to the young couple, “If you happen to speak to anyone about this, I'd ask you to keep Professor Snape's presence here a secret. He's here as for my protection, you see, against You-know-who. The Muggle security would be defenceless against Death Eaters, but I don't want the word to ever spread that he was here. Can you guys please keep the secret for me?”

“Of course, Hermione,” Finch-Fletchley promised without a hesitation, and Bones echoed him. “Thank you, Professor, for taking the time to protect a student during your holiday,” he added with a respectful tone, and Severus nodded politely.

“So, you've really been keeping a major secret, huh?” Bones asked. “I was certainly surprised. Justin only told me we were heading to a concert and when I saw the posters...”

“Yeah,” Granger laughed, “though I imagine the secret will be out soon. Harry already found out. I got an owl from him just before the concert.”

“How'd he react?” Finch-Fletchley asked and offered another Coke and a share of his crisps to Bones.

“He sounded pretty furious. He used a lot of curses. And he asked for a signature for his odious cousin.”

Finch-Fletchley and Bones both laughed. “I'll bet,” Finch-Fletchley said. “What about Ron Weasley?”

“I've no idea yet. I think he'd have sent me a furious letter if he'd found out,” Granger replied, turning to Bones. “Justin has been an awesome friend to me. He found out by accident last summer, and he's been the only one at Hogwarts to whom I could speak about it.”

“Hufflepuff loyalty,” Bones said and beamed at the curly-haired boy, “but Justin's the best. I expect the next school year will be interesting. We'll have two celebrities attending, you and Harry Potter.”

Just then a knock at the door halted the conversation, and Mr and Mrs Granger entered, let in by the bodyguard called Hank, who remained in the corridor. “Well, hello dear,” Mrs Granger greeted her daughter and the others with a smile.

“Hey mum, dad. Justin, Susan, these are my parents, John and Helen Granger. Mum and dad, these are two of my friends from school, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones.” The people shook hands, and John and Helen also greeted Severus kindly.

“We should probably get going,” Finch-Fletchley said, looking at his wrist watch. “I phoned my parents from the lobby's phone box, and they should be here soon. They'll pick us up, and Susan is staying for the night.”

“Oh, sure, of course. I'm glad you enjoyed the show,” Granger said and hugged them both. “We'll see at Hogwarts in September, yeah?” 

“Definitely. Thanks so much, Hermione!” Bones said, and Finch-Fletchley nodded. They also shook hands with the Grangers and bade polite farewells Severus, who felt an urge to scowl at them but refused it in the presence of the Grangers, though Bones especially looked like she might bolt out of fright: they did not volunteer to shake his hand, he thought triumphantly. 

“I'll escort you kids to the street where you can wait for your lift,” Mr Granger said, “It's not good for young ones to move about alone this late anyway.”

“Take Hank with you too, dad,” Granger said, and her father waved his hand dismissively as he exited the room with the two Hufflepuffs in tow. 

“We'll be off too, darling. We came with our own car, so we'll follow your limo home.”

“More likely we'll follow you,” Granger laughed, “With dad behind the wheel you'll leave us swallowing dust!”

Back in Hampstead Helen Granger served a very late but also light supper of mostly cold but delicious dishes with warm tea. The conversation was light, and John Granger baited his daughter to her utter embarrassment in front of her Professor by recounting how she'd bitterly cried when she'd been told she needed to actually return the books into the library.

Late that night, when Severus collapsed into his bed with a wonderfully thick mattress, nice and thick pillows, a warm blanket and clean sheets, he realised that his summer might hold some pleasures and delights after all: if you left out the fear of assassination or kidnap- attempts from his fellow Death Eaters and the inevitable Summons from his two masters, he might have something that resembled a holiday.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have sent Albus to visit Slughorn a couple of days earlier than he would have visited him (with Harry) in canon, though I expect my timeline is a little off from the books: I try to keep a chronological order but I won't bother to date the events exactly.

The day after he'd destroyed the Horcrux, Albus made a decision. He'd long debated whether or not to take young Harry with him, but decided against it: he'd have to take Harry to Number 12, Grimmauld Place later, and he'd need to speak with the Dursleys as well, but right now he needed to talk to Horace Slughorn.

He needed Slughorn. He knew the old, retired Potions Master had given him a false memory. Harry might have been enough to convince Horace to return to Hogwarts, but now... 

Albus realised he could have very well been killed. Only a huge coincidence had saved his life: he'd researched the remains of the Curse and learned that it would have devoured him alive. The compulsion on the ring would have kept him wearing it while the curse would have killed him. He could not delay any longer.

He Apparated to the Muggle village of Budleigh Babbington and walked briskly to a stone house. The house seemed empty, the door broken in and the interior in shambles, dragon blood all over the walls, but Albus wasn't easily deceived. He spotted Horace in the living room, pretending to be a small armchair, and prodded him with his wand. Horace dropped his guise immediately and with an air of injured dignity.

“Good evening, Horace,” Albus greeted him evenly. The man began to stutter, but Albus had no time for this. “I'm sorry, Horace, but I have no time for pleasantries right now. At any other time I would stay longer, but I'm afraid this cannot wait. And before you ask, yes, it was quite a convincingly staged fight, but you forgot the Dark Mark above the house.”

“Merlin's beard, Albus,” Horace whined. “I knew I forgot something. You needn't have poked me so hard.”

“Horace...” Albus warned the other wizard. “I came to talk to you. An offer of sorts. My protection against a memory. Horace... I know Tom Riddle asked you about Horcruxes. And I know you told him.”

Slughorn blanched. His large silvered walrus-like moustache quivered in fright, and he quickly repaired a sofa and sat down heavily enough to make the springs groan under his weight.

“Horace, we are old friends. I know you are not a Dark wizard, or a bad man. You simply made a mistake of trusting a young boy.” 

Horace did not reply, and Albus drew two items from his pocket, the diary and the broken ring, and quickly repairing an armchair and a small table, placed them on the repaired table next to Horace. Horace looked at them, lifting his hand closer and then withdrew it as fast as he could. “Are those...?” he asked, lowering his gaze on the floor but occasionally peeking at the two objects like they might attack him at any given moment. 

“Yes. Two of Voldemort's Horcruxes. One was destroyed by young Harry Potter in his second-year, and I found the second one yesterday. It had a compulsion curse on it, and it made me want to put it on, as well as a curse that would have killed me had I not been saved by a mere chance. They are inert now, but Horace... they are terrible objects. I know you made a mistake, and I also know you regret it. I do make mistakes myself, you've known me long enough to know that.” Horace looked up at his face and nodded slowly.

“I will make you an offer now. Allow me the memories of the times you dealt with young Tom, and in return I offer you sanctuary at Hogwarts. I know they've approached you, and you know they would kill you once they had profited from you.”

“It was Corban Yaxley,” Slughorn said quietly. “I've been hiding for over a year now.”

“I offer you sanctuary,” Albus repeated. “Not your previous post, mind you, I know you wanted to retire. I'll offer you something better: you know Hogwarts is safe. I'll offer you the chance to live in the castle and offer additional tutoring classes in Potions for promising students. The best of the best, just as you like them. Severus will still have the basic courses, and yours will be extra credit, and you can choose whom you allow in. In addition you can have your... Slug Club, was it? We have some very promising students. Young Harry Potter, of course, and among our most promising talents we have a young promising star called Hermione Granger, who is currently making a name for herself in the Muggle world. Quite a young celebrity, and extremely talented in Potions.”

“Granger? Related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Albus lied swiftly, “but her celebrity comes from her musical talents. Here...” he said, offering the magazine that Severus had given him a few days ago. “This is Hermione Granger. A very powerful young witch with superbly high scores in every subject she takes, including potions, and I expect she will probably make a musical break-through in the Wizarding world soon. She has the potential to become a star greater than Celestina Warbeck, I believe,” Albus continued luring his prey. 

“I believe you mean you will arrange the breakthrough, Albus,” Horace noted in his Slytherin cunning. It was easy to forget that the harmless-looking man possessed the talent of his house.

“I might,” Albus chuckled, “drop a few hints to the Wizarding Wireless Network when the summer is over. I believe she will be an asset to us, and a great role model for the young ones. She is a very brilliant young witch, Horace. She received nine Outstanding in her O.W.L.s and one Exceeds Expectations, and that was in Defence Against the Dark Arts, where we have had bad luck with teachers in recent years. I daresay Madam Umbridge taught them very poorly, as did most of their previous Professors.”

Horace was clearly intrigued, but still uncertain. “I'm an old man, Albus.” he whined. “You cannot expect me to fight. I am not a brave man.”

“Not that old, Horace, but no, I do not expect you to fight. The memories, however, are absolutely essential. And as I said, your schedule as an extra teacher would be considerably lighter: you would have plenty of spare time with the possibility to meet the best students and tutor them. Many of them can benefit from the connections you can make. I can have Severus Snape point out the most promising talents, if you wish,” Albus lured. “And, as you know, the security measures at Hogwarts are...”

“I'll do it,” Horace quickly said, “as long as I have what you promised. And I will be able to arrange my little get-togethers, won't I?”

“I expected nothing less, Horace. I should get back to the castle now: can I expect you soon? I would like to go over your memories as soon as possible, and you can take up residence any time you wish. The quarters of the Potions Master will belong to Severus, of course, but I will arrange you very nice lodgings in the upper levels, as well as a private laboratory and space for your club.”

“Thank you, Albus. I believe I can arrive tomorrow. I have no special wish to stay hidden... I could also speak with young Severus about the students.”

“Ah. Severus, unfortunately, is unavailable during this summer, but when he returns, I will arrange a time for you.”

“Thank you, Albus. A small raise wouldn't go amiss, either.”

“Good night, Horace!” Albus chuckled as he exited the house. 

*****************

Later that night Albus received news of the death of Madam Amelia Bones, as well as the appointment of Rufus Scrimegour to the new Minister for Magic.


	13. Interludes and Intermissions II

“Colin! Colin! Look!” Dennis Creevey called to his brother, who was dabbling with his camera in the kitchen.

“What? I'm busy, Dennis,” Colin said.

“It's Hermione Granger, isn't it?” Dennis said, shoving a magazine in front of his brother unceremoniously. Colin stared and blinked several times.

“Bloody hell!”

“Colin Creevey! Mind your language!”

“Yes mum!”

“She's Harry Potter's best friend, Colin, and she's a superstar! She's cooler than Harry Potter! Next year is going to be so fucking cool!”

“Dennis Creevey!”

“Sorry mum!”

Mr Creevey chuckled and turned a page of the newspaper he'd been reading.

“Please don't encourage the boys, Edward,” Mrs Creevey chided her husband.

“Boys, listen to your mother,” Mr Creevey said in a stern tone but with an amused expression that did not quite match his words.

 

*****************

“This is a waste of time, Cissy!” Bellatrix screeched at her sister as they walked away from Snape's door at Spinner's End. “That slimy bastard is a traitor, I keep telling you! This is the second time we've...”

“The fourth time I have come, Bella,” Narcissa said quietly, trying to hold back her tears. “I came twice alone. Draco needs his help, Bella! He can't...”

“He must! It is the order from our Lord!” Bellatrix LeStrange attempted, but her sister had already Disapparated, and Bellatrix cursed and Apparated to Malfoy manor, catching up with her sister. “Cissy, I've said it again and again: Draco should be proud of this mission. You can't keep trying to...”

“Trying to... what?” hissed the unmistakable voice of the Dark Lord from the shadows. His footsteps were almost soundless as he approached the two women who were suddenly freezing in terror, but the scales of his serpent Nagini hissed as it slithered alongside him. “Again you disappear somewhere without any explanations or reasons. Where were you?”

Narcissa, usually so cool and proud, could only lower her gaze in front of the terrifying lord. 

“Bella, you, among my most trusted... tell me where you were,” the Dark Lord commanded. He could have used Legilimency, Bellatrix knew, and her Occlumency-walls would have melted like bricks of sand in front of a tidal wave, but Bellatrix adored her lord. She well and truly loved him, and nothing would have stopped her from giving him whatever he desired.

“We went to Snape's house, my lord. He wasn't home. This was the second time I have gone, and fourth time that Narcissa has been there. Wormtail isn't there, and Snape isn't. He's a traitor, my lord! A filthy scum-sucking traitor...!”

“Silence!” the Dark Lord commanded. “Severus is at Hogwarts. He himself informed me that Dumbledore ordered him to stay in the castle for the summer. As for Wormtail... the rat was caught when he foolishly wandered out of the apartment. Severus informed me of this.”

“Why wasn't I told?” Bellatrix whined, but blanched as her lord looked at her with fury in his slitted eyes. “My lord, I...”

“You had no need for the knowledge, Bella. Tell me, why were you trying to contact Severus? I gave no such command.”

“Narcissa wanted his protection for Draco!” Bellatrix answered quickly. “She didn't think he could complete the mission you set, my lord!”

“Really, Narcissa?” the Dark Lord drawled. “As a mother you really should have more faith in your own son. And you, my dear Bella? What were you doing there, with Narcissa?”

“My lord... I... I...” Bellatrix stammered.

“Answer me, Bella,” Voldemort insisted, taking a hold of her chin and caressing her cheek with his cold hand while lifting her chin so he could look her in the eyes.

“I intended to make him swear the unbreakable vow, my lord,” Bellatrix replied before she could even consider her response twice. The Dark Lord released her almost immediately and stepped two steps back.

“I... see...” He circled around the two sisters for a while, then stopped. “You are to leave Severus out of this. Bella... you should know better than to demand any vows or oaths without my permission. CRUCIO!”

Bellatrix fell on the floor and clenched her jaws together, flailing for a while before she first began to whimper, then scream as the Unforgivable seared every pain receptor and nerve in her body. Voldemort kept the Curse for a few minutes, then turned to Narcissa, who'd grown pale and was trying not to quake in fear. “Narcissa, you need to let Draco succeed or fail on his own. Approaching Severus demonstrates your mistrust in both your son and on me. CRUCIO!”

Narcissa screamed in agony as the Dark Lord kept her under the spell for several excruciatingly long minutes, pausing for a while, then continuing. Bellatrix dared not interfere.

Behind them Draco Malfoy pulled his head back from the partially closed doorway and leaned against the wall, tears of horror and shame streaking his cheeks as he heard his mother being tortured. He panted in terror, and the main thought in his mind was 'I never thought it would be like this. What have we done?!'


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione Granger was many things, but an idiot was not among them. Nor was she a fool nor ignorant. And so she'd remembered what Justin had said about Ronald Weasley and she'd pondered it. She'd taken the feelings she'd had for him, turned them around like a Rubik's Cube or a puzzle, trying to solve them.

She'd had a crush on Ronald, of course, but realistically... why? Sure, he wasn't terribly bad-looking once he got over the gangly phase. But he was also terribly temperamental and prone to rashness and bouts of blind fury and jealousy, none of which were easy features to live with.

He'd been so incredibly bitter toward Hermione when he'd thought that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers — or Pettigrew, as it turned out — and had refused to even speak to her. Both Harry and he had ignored her for weeks when she'd suggested that Harry's gift broom might need to be checked out by someone with experience before taken into use. He'd behaved abominably toward Harry when he thought he'd entered his name into the Goblet of Fire, again acting like a total prat out of jealousy. He'd been really nasty about her efforts to improve the rights of the house-elves. In every case he'd refused to listen to reason.

Jealousy defined Ronald Weasley. When she'd made the decision to hide her singing career, Ron's reaction had been one major deciding factor: she didn't want the conflict. Now, in hindsight, the conflict could not be avoided forever, but she couldn't very well stop singing just because Ron Weasley would be jealous, could she? And jealous he would be, knowing how popular she was and how much money she made. It was already hard on him to know how much Harry had and how popular he was. To be so overshadowed by two of his friends... could she really even consider a relationship with a boy like him? She was forgiving and she'd forgiven him every time, but could she tolerate such things in a relationship as well? 

And then their interests. Ron Weasley liked food, Wizard's Chess and Quidditch. He didn't care for learning, books or reading, while Hermione adored research: they really had very little in common except Harry. 

Come to think of it, it would have been a pleasant solution for Harry, wouldn't it? She and Ron were great friends, and Harry would very likely end up with Ginny, and if she'd end up dating Ronald, then it would be such a neat little instant family, wouldn't it? Except that she now had to admit that it probably would not have worked in the long run. A few years, perhaps, but then they'd run each other mental. Ron quite often made her want to hex him, and she couldn't make her decisions based on what Harry wanted, could she?

Ron would most likely want a big family. A wife who would be a home-maker, like Molly Weasley. Hermione wanted a career. She'd want to learn so much more after Hogwarts, then have a career. Then, perhaps later, maybe a child. Or perhaps not. But the career would have to come first! 

So... Justin was probably right: Ron wasn't quite right for her. She had to admit she was trying to take an easy route: a relationship with someone very familiar. But if not Ron, then who?

She'd liked Viktor Krum quite a bit. It had been so flattering when he'd been interested and taken her to the Yule Ball, but in the end they'd both agreed that they'd be great friends but long-distance relationships rarely really worked. It had actually been Viktor who encouraged her to sing professionally: she'd sang to him privately, and Viktor encouraged her to chase her dream like he'd chased his in professional Quidditch. His letters were always encouraging, but try as Hermione might, he couldn't see a future with the sports-driven Viktor. 

She needed someone intelligent, she thought, someone with whom she could have long conversations about subjects that interested them both. Someone who would treat her as an equal. Someone with equal measures of passion. Looks didn't matter so much, she decided: she wasn't that shallow. Someone more mature than Ron, definitely. Someone who was not Ronald Weasley. Someone who understood. Someone... someone.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to emjrabbitwolf for multiple suggestions :)

Severus had fully expected the hate the time he'd spend with Granger and her family, but thus far he'd enjoyed it. He'd only been Summoned once, during the London concert, which was a welcome change to the previous years when he'd been Summoned almost weekly. 

After only one night at the Granger residence after the London concert, the limousine took him and Granger to Manchester, along with Hank the bodyguard and their driver: Hank was riding shotgun in the front, leaving Granger with her 'cousin' in the luxurious back seats. The mini fridge was fully stocked with drinks and light snacks, and both he and Granger had brought plenty of books for the ride. They took a short lunch break in the middle of the journey: they'd be staying in a five-star hotel for two nights before the concert at Manchester Arena, which had only opened the year before. 

The hotel was luxurious and paid by the company: a suite for each of them and basic rooms for Granger's bodyguards. Tony and Alfonse had arrived with the rest of the crew, and while the bodyguards on duty stayed in the hotel, the crew had much cheaper lodgings in another hotel close to the Arena.

He dined with Miss Granger in the hotel's restaurant, and he was surprised by how easy it was to discuss with her. She was head and shoulders above the rest of the students, far more promising than any other student that Hogwarts had seen for decades. While his position as a spy and her status as a Muggle-born best friend of the Boy-who-lived-to-irritate-the-hell-out-of-him had denied him the chance to properly tutor her or even compliment her true talents, he'd also pegged much to mindlessly quoting and reciting text book knowledge. But face-to-face, after she seemed to get over the authority-issue, she turned out to be an excellent conversationalist, defending her opinions bravely. The food was excellent, and the medium rare steak he ate would have trumped the fare at Hogwarts any day of the week. The hotel suite was luxurious, especially for a low-class Manchester-born boy from a poor neighbourhood. 

The most triumphant moment of the Manchester concert was a chance meeting with a former neighbour: Severus remembered he was called 'Nate', but couldn't be bothered to remember his last name. He'd been one of the neighbourhood bullies, a Muggle equivalent to the Marauders. Nate and his mates had spent years tormenting him, first all year around and later only during summer holidays. He probably would not have recognised the man, though he hadn't changed all that much, but the man spotted his exiting the hotel with Granger. Granger stopped to sign some autographs for a few teenaged fans, and the man, who'd stared at Granger and him with his jaw hanging slack, called to Severus and reminded him of being neighbours long ago.

It seemed like Nate had decided to forget they were never friends and tried to strike a conversation. It didn't take long for Severus to figure out why: Nate thought Severus was sleeping with Granger. “So... you lucky bastard, nailing the famous Mione G, eh?” he said with a sleazy wink. “Lucky shite, you! She ain't much older than my daughter, eh?”

Severus was torn. He could have done the right thing and told the bastard he was protecting her, but then again, he didn't look the type to be a bodyguard anyway. And the temptation turned out to be just too much. “Oh yes. Mione and I get along very well indeed,” he drawled, allowing a slow smile on his lips — an expression that would have set any student at Hogwarts running away as fast as their legs could carry them, but only conveyed some rather sleazy thoughts to this man who never had really known him.

“She is very pleasant... company,” he continued. “Ah, I believe the lady in question is ready to proceed to our next location. Good day, Nate,” he said with a wave of his hand and strode to Granger, who was waiting for him by the limousine that was to take them to Manchester Arena. He could not suppress the satisfied smirk on his lips as he entered the limo with Granger in front of an old bully, which made Granger look at him in surprise. 

“Just an old acquaintance I had not met in years,” he explained vaguely as the limo pulled away and he spotted Nate still staring at them with a puzzled expression on his face. 

*****************

The soundchecks and the concert had gone swimmingly, and after the concert they ordered a late supper from room service, dined in Granger's suite and discussed potions until bedtime. 

They had gotten a bit of a scare when they were ambushed by a paparazzi, but a quick wandless Hex from Severus damaged the camera enough that the film would seem like it'd been overexposed or had otherwise been faulty. Severus and Albus had never considered the paparazzi, but in the end Severus and Granger decided that the probability of a pure-blood from Voldemort's ranks reading The Sun or other, worse trash tabloids was less than minimal. It was too late to change Severus' appearance drastically: they could only hope that his Muggle clothes would be enough to fool anyone who might spot him.

The news of Amelia Bones' death had shocked Granger, and she had grieved for Miss Bones, though the two were not the best of friends. Apparently Mr and Mrs Granger received 'The Daily Prophet' at their home address, allowing Severus easily keep up with what was happening in the Wizarding world without constantly Apparating to Hogwarts. 

The third concert was in Newcastle upon Tyne a week after Manchester: another trip by limousine, with a couple of extra breaks in between, two nights in a fancy hotel, excellent meals, loads of fans requesting Granger's autograph, and the concert, which was apparently quite routine. The band and the dancers were always the same, but the girls who did her make-up and costumes took turns. Every concert was sold out: the crowds were almost frightening as they cheered and screamed at their idol. 

After the gig at Newcastle there would be the gig in Cardiff, Wales, the last long journey by limo: they'd be travelling to Dublin by private plane, the same with the concerts in Paris, Münich and Milan. Severus had never flown by plane before, but no matter how much easier and faster travel by Portkey was, it would be impossible to explain how Granger and her 'cousin' turned up in a different country without being seen in a plane. 

The Grangers had also offered him the possibility to brew in their basement. An extra room was cleared for his private laboratory, and though to conditions were not ideal and he had to pick up supplies from both Hogwarts and Spinner's End, he was able to do some light experimenting. Granger was curious, and after responding to her seemingly endless questions for almost two days, he reluctantly allowed her to help prepare some ingredients. 

During his short visit at Hogwarts Albus had revealed to him that Horace Slughorn had moved into the castle and would be giving extra lessons in potions, and that Albus had asked Alastor Moody to teach Defence. Alastor had been asked to teach two years ago, but he'd been captured and replaced by Barty Crouch, Jr.: Albus had reasoned that since the real Moody had not taught Defence, the possible Jinx in the post would not affect him. He'd meant to ask Moody to teach the year before, but Fudge had set the plague called Dolores Umbridge upon them. Moody's appointment would mean that Severus would once again miss his chance to teach Defence, which made him angry.

That, combined with the fact that Alastor Moody absolutely detested him and that there would be major conflicts between them during the next year, made him absolutely livid. He returned to the Granger residence and made his way to their small gym. Shedding his outer garments and leaving himself to his shirt sleeves and slacks, he approached the punching bag and began to rid himself of the excess rage. He'd been at it for around fifteen minutes when there was a knock on the door and Granger entered. 

“Sir?”

“Yes, Granger,” he sighed.

“I've made some tea if you want to join me,” she said quietly and left. Severus sighed again, cast a few quick cleansing and refreshing charms on himself, redressed and went after Granger. One of her talents was making excellent tea: perfectly brewed, served from good quality Wedgwood china along with a generous spread of both sweet and savoury treats. Severus took a warm croissant while Granger poured him a cup of tea, and they sat in companionable silence for a while.

“Anything new from Hogwarts?” she finally asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“Yes. It seems that Alastor Moody will be your new Professor at Defence Against the Dark Arts,” he said. 

“Oh. I'm... I'm sorry, sir.”

“Whatever for?”

“I know you wanted the post, sir. Except that they say it's Jinxed, so I'm kind of glad you didn't. You might have gotten hurt.”

Severus cast an incredulous look at her, relaying his disbelief that she'd actually care for the wellbeing of the most unpopular of teachers. “Nevertheless, Moody will teach Defence in the autumn. Another new member to the staff will be Professor Slughorn. He'll be giving extra lessons in potions for anyone who wants them.”

“What for?” she asked.

Severus shrugged. “For those who want extra credit. I don't do extra credit.”

“I see. Is he any good?”

“He was my Professor when I went to Hogwarts,” replied noncommittally. 

“He'll be really excellent, then,” Granger said, and Severus scoffed, though he didn't comment further. Slughorn wasn't without skills, but he was lazy, he wasn't inventive in brewing and, truthfully, Severus had surpassed his old Potions Master in skills decades ago. 

Sensing his annoyance, Granger switched topics. “You were really good with the punching bag. I didn't recognise all the movements.”

“I have a special technique combining Krav Maga and some other techniques,” Severus replied politely. “Most witches and wizards relay too much on their wands and magic, but in a tight spot sometimes a bit of physical violence may be enough to get one out of trouble.”

“Would you... sir, would you teach me some?” Granger asked. 

“You want to learn physical combat?” Severus queried, cocking his eyebrow. “It is not something one learns in a book.”

“I'd like to, yes, if it's possible. I learned that sometimes it does have its uses...” she said, blushing.

“Speaking from experience, Granger?”

“Errr, yes. I, well, I slapped Draco Malfoy once. He fell on his backside.”

Severus suppressed a laugh. “Mr Malfoy's pride must have taken quite a strike,” he hazarded a quess. The girl smiled quietly and sipped her tea.

“If you wish to learn, I believe we can spare some time for that,” Severus decided. The Grangers had been extremely courteous and generous to him, and with Granger's help the preparation of ingredients was faster. “How about we start with the basics soon after the tea?”

*****************

That night, when Hermione retreated to her bed, she stared at the ceiling for a long time. The sight of her Professor in his shirt and his slacks had shocked her, and when he'd began teaching her and had changed into a looser sporting gear that revealed his lithe, long body, she'd felt something she'd never felt before. Something new, something exciting, earth-shattering. He'd demonstrated the techniques in his quiet, deep and authoritative voice, correcting her stance, posture and movements with subtle touches. 

Hermione felt a bit too warm and very uncomfortable and very restless and almost dizzy as she fell into restless slumber and dreamt.

In another room Severus Snape was in a similar predicament. The girl was tempting. She was kind, generous and forgiving, gentle, pleasant and intelligent, all of which he'd known for years, although none of this had ever been directed at him before this summer. Generosity and kindness were all too new for him: there had always been some price for him to pay, some demand made of him. 

But this girl, perhaps more a young woman... she was also creative, poised, polite. Her body no longer resembled that of a child, and Severus had become well too aware of the shape of her hips, her legs and her breasts, the warmth and curiosity in her large brown eyes as he'd corrected her. How warm her skin had been.

Severus groaned and took himself in hand, both needing to relieve himself of the pressure of being aroused too long and hating himself for thinking of her student in such a way. 

Granger's first name escaped his lips in a whispered groan when he came in a hot wave of shame and pleasure.


	16. Chapter 16

His attraction to her had grown as time progressed. He'd gotten to know her like he'd never known her before: she was different outside school, much more relaxed. She was funny, too, when she didn't have the constant need to prove herself. “Mum allowed me to have my hair cut shorter once when I was eleven and I was so tired of it being so unmanageable,” she told him one day as their limousine made its way to the concert venue. “They cut it to shoulder length. That didn't help, of course. It ended up looking like an Egyptian pyramid for months, and I had this feeling that any given moment some Egyptians might walk in and seek to bury a mummy inside my hair... I'll never make that mistake again!”

They practised combat techniques almost every day they spent at the Granger home, an hour at a time, once or sometimes twice a day, after which they usually took tea and then continued brewing. The physical contact was constant: demonstrating the various ways to hold down an opponent, how to trip them, how to break free of a hold...

Every night Severus found himself tossing and turning under his covers, missing her touch and fearing it, longing for the scent of her skin until he either had to grasp his cock and give in to his desire, or take a phial of Dreamless Sleep. She was in his head when he stroked himself, and he dreamt of her walking into his room, kissing and straddling him, of being able to thrust inside her, to sink himself deep inside her warmth... 

He had no idea if she had shared her bed with anyone before. He knew she'd attended the Yule Ball with the famous Viktor Krum, and her crush on the idiot Weasley boy was widely gossiped upon among the staff that was almost insatiably curious about the goings-on of the so-called 'Golden Trio'. He felt pathetic, really: he was nineteen years older than she was and untouched himself, yet wanking almost daily just thinking of her. 

And couldn't he have picked an easier target to his affections? He'd fallen for Lily Evans one day, but Lily had used him: they'd been friends, but the price of her friendship was tutoring and support in her studies, teaching her so she could concentrate on her social life and popularity. And now, fifteen years after the death of Lily, the second object of his affections was a young student, beautiful, talented, vibrant and kind, forgiving to a fault, and he'd spent five years ridiculing her in the classroom, insulting her at almost every turn. Still, she seemed to tolerate him now, spending time voluntarily in his presence, but a dream of anything more was ridiculous at best. Severus Snape was an odious man: hated, detested, ugly and always unwanted. But his mind and his body did not leave it be: they tortured him daily with dreams and fantasies, until every touch of her skin felt like a searing flame.

Seeing her on stage left him longing and sore: how she spun around the pole, how her long, beautiful legs in stockings gleamed in stage lights, and the unfathomable and painful jealousy when he saw other men ogle at her. 

Then the shocking kiss. Neither of them really knew which of them started it, or even how it started. It was possibly both of them, but in the end, it did not matter. It was mutual. It was in the middle of a practice session the day before they were due to fly to Germany: he was showing her how to bring an opponent down when their feet tangled. Granger lost her balance, clung to him as she fell, bringing him down with her. They landed on the padded gym floor in a tangle, air knocked out of their lungs, and after regaining his breath, Severus found his head buried to her breasts. 

An embarrassing situation to say the least. It could have been just that, and they could have just laughed it off. He could have helped her up, he could have chided her to be more careful in the future, but he didn't: he found himself staring into her beautiful brown eyes, drowning so deep into them, and time seemed to stand still. 

The next thing he realised was that they were kissing. He did not know who started it: it could have been his lips falling on hers, or it could have been hers that first touched his, but that didn't seem to matter at that very moment when her lips caressed his so gently, when her hand touched his cheek and tangled into his greasy hair, pulling him closer...

The thought sent him back to reality. He wanted nothing more than to continue kissing her soft, sweet lips, but then he remembered who she was, and who he was: he remembered his greasy hair, his crooked and yellow teeth, his sallow skin and his hooked nose next to the lovely complexion of his young student.

“Miss... Miss Granger, I'm... I apologise. That should never have happened,” he stammered, drawing back, getting to his feet again. 

“I liked it,” she replied quietly, flushed, her crazy hair now falling off the tight bun she'd secured it on and the strands floating about. She remained on the floor, though she pushed herself to a sitting position.

“Nevertheless. I am your teacher, I should not have...”

“I liked it. I would... would like it if it happened again,” she quickly said.

Severus sighed. “No. You are sixteen, and you are my student. Right now I am to guard you, not to... abuse my position.”

“You're not abusing me. And I'll be seventeen in September.”

“And I shall still be your teacher in September,” he replied harshly, needing to be strict. “This unfortunate incident cannot be repeated, Granger. Will not be repeated. I am already imposing on the hospitality of your parents. I will not abuse my authority and their trust. I cannot do that. Will not.”

“Sir...”

“No, Granger. Whatever you think... you are too young. I am sorry for... that. I will not do that again, I promise,” he said, leaving the gym. He went to his room, needing a long and cold shower, and refused to pay attention to the insistently throbbing erection that called him a liar and urged and drove him to go back to her, to love her, to take her and be done with it.

He refused to join the table that night, citing slight nausea, and isolated himself to his room, where he stared at the ceiling, his mind a hopeless tumble of longing, attraction and memories of that one wonderful kiss.


	17. Chapter 17

The summons finally came when they had just arrived to Germany. They'd signed in to their hotel after Granger finished her interviews for the German television and for two representatives of the French press, and Severus was just putting away his clothes when his Dark Mark began to burn. He tossed the jacket he was holding on the floor and made his way to Granger's room, knocking quickly on the door. “I'm being summoned,” he explained quickly when she opened the door. “I'll return when I can.” Quickly he returned to his room, pulled out his robes and his mask, and clutching Albus' charm, Apparated to Hogwarts. 

Albus was in his study reading some old tome when Severus Apparated next to him. “Summoned?” he queried quickly, and Severus nodded. “Be safe, my boy,” Albus said quickly, a concerned expression on his face. “He hasn't summoned you in a while, so I expect your report as soon as you can.

Severus strode out of the castle and to the gates as fast as he could, pulled back his sleeve to reveal his Dark Mark, placed his wand on it and Disapparated. He found himself at Malfoy Manor again, in Wiltshire. The house was almost dark now, where it had once been lit every evening by hundreds of candles, and it felt ominous. Severus made his way through the gates and to the audience hall with fast strides. The inner circle was already present: he was the last to arrive.

“Ah, Severus, delayed once again?” the Dark Lord hissed in apparent displeasure.

“Apologies, my Lord, I was delayed by Dumbledore. I was in his presence and did not wish to alert him. I left as soon as I could make an excuse.”

“I see,” the Dark Lord dismissed him, still irritated. “Do take your seat, Severus. We already started on the situation at the Ministry.”

The meeting went on for half an hour on various things, mostly about the planned coup of the Ministry. Narcissa, the lady of the house, was not present, though the etiquette would have given her a seat at the table: Draco was present, sitting next to Bellatrix and looking quite dreadful. He looked like he'd gotten very little sleep, his usually immaculate hair was overgrown and in disarray and his clothes were wrinkled. He kept his gaze on the table and did not lift his eyes from the surface, seeming to trace the patterns of the antique oak with his eyes. Finally, Yaxley was called forth.

“Corban, tell us about your search for Horace Slughorn,” Voldemort hissed. “Searching for him was one of your tasks. He has evaded our attentions far too long.”

“My lord, no sign of him yet. He is good at hiding, but I'll find him, I promise you. I've some others searching for him.”

“My lord, Slughorn is at Hogwarts,” Severus interjected. “Dumbledore has offered him a place to teach extra lessons at potions.”

“Hogwarts?!” Voldemort hissed, clearly outraged. “You knew of this?”

“My lord, I did not know you were interested in finding him,” Severus lied. “I would have reported to you earlier had I known it was important...”

“What else have you deemed... 'unimportant', Severus?”

“My lord, I do not deem them unimportant, but I would have reported everything on my turn. Dumbledore has hired Alastor Moody to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts this year, and Rubeus Hagrid had been reinstated to Care of Magical Creatures after Umbridge became... indisposed. And Slughorn has been allowed to live in the castle to teach extra lessons for talented students. I have no doubt that he begged for a sanctuary from Dumbledore,” Severus replied quickly. 

“No doubt, yes. Still, you should have told me of Slughorn sooner,” the Dark Lord drawled. “We have wasted valuable resources in finding him. Extra lessons... it is obviously but an excuse, and a flimsy one at that.”

“My lord, had I been Summoned earlier...”

“ENOUGH!” Voldemort screamed and pointed his wand at Severus, who braced himself, knowing all too well what was about to come. “I will not hear any more of your excuses! You have disappointed me, Severus. CRUCIO!”

Severus fell from his chair helplessly. His head struck the stone floor, but the pain all over his body was too great for him to more than make a note of it: his world was filled with the hopeless, endless pain that seemed to sear every nerve. He'd been through his too many times, but it never really got any better: he raised his walls of Occlumency and hid behind them, hoping that it'd soon be over, while his body spasmed helplessly on the floor. He tasted blood and knew his nose had started bleeding again, but he was in too much pain to really care. All he could now hope was that it's stop soon enough for him to retain his sanity and the ability to return back home. 

The minutes seemed to drag by until Voldemort stopped his punishment. Severus lay on the floor, his body twitching uncontrollably, tremors and spasms shaking his limbs. He blinked and dazedly looked at the drops of blood on the floor around him: they'd flown off as he'd flailed in his pain. The meeting was adjourned and the room emptied: he vaguely heard the bitch Bellatrix call for Narcissa and drag her out, arguing in hushed tones with her. He reached into his pocket with trembling fingers and withdrew two phials, one for the pain, the other was Strengthening Solution, and drank them. Then he could do nothing but rest on the floor, spasms still shaking his limbs as the minutes ticked by.

Suddenly Narcissa was back, sneaking in from a side door, Draco right behind her. She looked terrified but she came anyway, though she looked almost paranoid. She crept close to Severus and began helping him up. 

“I would have come to help you earlier, but Bella kept me away. I... I tried to come to your home to ask you to protect my Draco. I came several times but you weren't there and I was punished. I will have Draco help you out, but Severus, please, I beg of you: protect my son. I dare not help you further, Bella is keeping an eye on me. Please, Severus... please. Protect my son. Lucius is your friend, and so am I. For that friendship, if it ever meant anything to you, and as a mother... I beg of you.”

“I will... do what I can...” Severus promised hoarsely, and Narcissa sighed in relief and gestured Draco to come. Together they helped him on his feet: he could do nothing but lean of Draco, while Narcissa quickly returned to where she came from. Straggling under his weight, Draco slowly helped Severus toward the door.

“I don't need your help,” Draco said when they were almost outside the anti-Apparition Wards of the Manor. “The Dark Lord gave this task to me. I will not fail him. I will earn back his trust and you'll not steal my honour, my success.”

“Draco... you will need...” Severus attempted, but Draco pulled back and Severus fell to his knees. 

“No!” the boy hissed, “I need nothing from you!” He turned his back and strode off, leaving Severus in the garden. The potions had given him just enough strength to Apparate, though the only thing protecting him from Splinching was his experience in Apparating while in great pain. He'd been a recipient of the Dark Lord's displeasure for quite some time.

He really meant to Apparate to Hogwarts, to rest in his own chambers and to report back to Albus, but he was in no condition to talk to Albus and he couldn't leave Granger alone and unprotected, and Apparition with Albus' charm seemed safer: holding it tightly he struggled to his feet, turned on his heel and Disapparated.


	18. Chapter 18

Hermione had been restless since Severus... Professor Snape... left to see You-Know-Who. She tried to relax and read, but again and again she found herself staring blankly at the page without registering the words she'd read. 

Of course she'd known that Professor Snape was a spy, but seeing him leave was very different from just knowing that he occasionally visited Voldemort. Especially now that she'd gotten to know the man and had to admit to herself that she was, indeed, attracted to him.

Oh, this wasn't the first time. She'd hated the Professor from time to time, mistrusted him on occasion, and then she'd felt attraction toward him on occasions such as the Yule Ball. She'd been crying after some nasty words with Ronald, and she'd seen the Professor cast a glance toward her. For just a mere moment the glance seemed to carry some regret and understanding, before the Professor swept away with his long and silent panther-like stride, his robes billowing behind him, and left her with a dry mouth and a strange fluttering in her belly. She'd been fifteen and intelligent enough to recognise that she was terribly hormonal and not very rational: still, the feeling had lingered there, somewhere, barely recognised and conscious, classified as a mere 'crush on a teacher, will probably pass in a while'.

After the kiss they'd shared things had been a bit awkward. Professor Snape had avoided her for the rest of the day, citing that he was nauseous, and she'd finally taken him a small, light tray to his room so that he wouldn't starve, leaving him to eat in peace. The next day had been easier, with the flight to Germany leaving quite early: they'd bid her parents good-byes early in the morning, bags already packed the previous night.

The private plane was nice: the crew and staff had their own space in the front, but a decent space was reserved for her as the artist in the back, where Sever... Professor Snape also travelled. 

The interviews she'd given earlier in the day were always a bit difficult, trying to hide her life in the Wizarding world and her studies behind Muggle terms, trying to keep her privacy and yet respond to questions politely and trying to avoid lecturing to the press. It'd been a lesson her manager had taught, but remembering it was still a struggle. 

Hermione sighed as she fluffed the three pillows between her back and the headboard. The bed was luxuriously soft and had an abundance of pillows to make a comfortable reading nest, but she was almost too concerned to concentrate. The Professor had been gone for almost two hours.

She turned the page and sighed, but had to suppress a sudden scream when the man she'd been thinking about suddenly materialized by her bed with a louder crack than usual, swaying and toppling over the bed and over her feet. Luckily he'd fallen on the soft bed and not on the floor, because he fell quite heavily. Hermione felt the ripples of panic and struggled on her knees. There was blood over the his face: he'd had a nosebleed, Hermione saw, and he was twitching, letting out a low groan of pain.

“Professor! Are you Splinched? How can I help?” she called, taking a hold of his head. The Professor opened his eyes and groaned in misery before another spasm shook him for a while.

“Cruciatus,” he finally said.

“What can I do? What will help?” 

“Heat. Warm. Bath.” Severus replied, clenching his teeth.

“Yes, sir. I'll have to help you to the tub,” Hermione replied, getting up.

“No walking. Use levitation.” 

“I can't, the trace...”

Severus groaned again and drew breath. “Take... my wand. Hold on to my... hand or arm, skin on skin, then cast. Will... confuse the trace.”

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, her head buzzing with half a dozen questions about the trace, but refrained from it, and took Snape's wand from his hand. The wand was made of Hawthorn, much longer than Hermione's delicate vine wood wand. It was narrow and thin and had no embellishments or decorations. It felt foreign in her hand, very alien, but only for a short while. She had held it for a scant few seconds, trying to decide which spot in Professor Snape's skin she'd dare to touch, when the wand suddenly seemed to recognise her. It was as if the wand had suddenly decided it liked her, and she could feel that the wand would not resist her in any way. 

She took hold of Professor Snape's wrist and cast a Mobilicorpus on Snape, levitating him carefully into her own bathroom. She opened the taps and began filling the tub with steaming water.

“Professor... I'll have to remove your clothes,” she said uncertainly. Snape did not comment, though he seemed to clench his teeth, and Hermione removed his clothes with succession of spells, leaving him only in his boxers. He'd lost control of his bladder, and Hermione cleaned him with with a quick Charm, before she levitated him into the water. He groaned when the water first touched his skin, but then seemed to relax as he was submerged.

“I'll need a phial from my pocket,” Severus said, “Invigoration Draught. Left side.” Hermione nodded, lowering the wand long enough to retrieve the phial and helped Snape drink it, before she took the wand again and cast a Cleaning Charm on his clothes. 

The tremors still hit him sporadically and Hermione used his wand to dry the floor and to re-heat the water in the tub. After nearly an hour the tremors seemed to have stopped, and the Professor seemed more relaxed. “Enough,” he said. “A glass of water, please.” It sounded more like an order than a request, but Hermione quickly took a cup and filled it from the tap: Snape drank and requested a refill, drinking a second cup in succession before he sighed and leaned back again.

“I need to sleep now,” he sighed wearily. 

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said, and lifted him from the tub with Mobilicorpus. She then dried him with a fresh towel and levitated him to her bed. Snape was now asleep and did not stir when Hermione lay him on her bed. She contemplated levitating him into his own room but decided it wasn't worth the risk of being seem: the security cameras might have been fooled by a simple disillusionment, but they would see the doors opening and closing themselves, and besides, she was exhausted as well. Not to mention she'd have to search the Professor's pockets for his room key...

No, she decided, and pulled the blankets over Professor Snape... Severus... before she herself, after a brief consideration, brought his clothes to a chair, changed into a night gown, brushed her teeht, and finally crawled into the bed herself. It was a large bed enough for two, she decided, and she was too tired to think of propriety. She placed his wand on the bedside table and fell promptly asleep. 

***********************************************************

Severus woke up the next morning, feeling quite sore, though not quite as sore as he usually was after a long bout of Cruciatus Curse. His memories returned about the same time he realised that he was holding Miss Hermione Granger in his arms. Her hair tickled his chin: it was a tangled mess of curls, really, but her breath against his chest was very warm and she felt incredibly comfortable there, warming his aching muscles. They were both in the middle of the large bed, possibly having both migrated there in their sleep, but the position felt natural and pleasant.

Too pleasant, he realised, when he felt her stir and simultaneously felt his aching erection pushing against her. Hermione moved a bit and he felt his erection throb, tried hard to suppress his urge to shove his hips against her. She'd felt it, he realised, and felt anso embarrassing blush invade his sallow cheeks: she smiled, though, looking up at him, and moved her hips just a bit, just enough that his erection was pushed against her further...

His orgasm hit him like a Bludger, unexpectedly, and he shuddered helplessly against her, a small moan of pleasure ripping itself from his throat, before his muscles relaxed and both lassitude and embarrassment took over. He closed his eyes in quiet humiliation: he'd just orgasmed in an instant against the skin of his young student.

To his amazement he felt her move, and then her lips gingerly caressed his. She kissed him quietly, and after a while he couldn't help but respond to her kiss, tasting her lips with his. 

After a while he pulled back and opened his eyes. Her brown eyes sparkled again, and he saw no trace of resentment or desire to humiliate him. Still, he was incredibly embarrassed. “Miss Granger, I am incredibly sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“I did not..”

“Hush. It doesn't matter.”

Silence reigned for a while, but it was a much more comfortable silence, and despite the uncomfortable wet feeling in his boxers, Severus held the girl to his chest, gently petting her wild hair. After a few minutes, however, her stomach grumbled in protest, and they both chuckled quietly.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Quarter past seven,” she replied. “I could order breakfast from the room service, if you don't want to hit the breakfast table. I don't really fancy meeting fans this morning...”

“Here is fine, thank you. My wand, Granger?”

“On the bedside table,” she replied, reaching for her own wand, “and your clothes are on the chair. Feel free to use my shower while I order.” Severus nodded and went to the bathroom: he quickly cleaned his boxers and showered, cleaned his teeth with a quick spell, then dressed up in his clothes, noticing that Granger... Hermione... had cleaned them up.

He heard the room service arrive, and when the server had gone, he went to the room. Granger had ordered a nice selection, and they quietly helped themselves from the trolley, sitting down to eat. The food was expertly done, still hot, the tea well brewed, and for a while they ate in companionable silence, though Severus still had to fight his feeling of utter embarrassment.

“Granger, about what happened... it was very inappropriate. I must ask for your discretion, and your forgiveness...”

“No need for that, sir,” she replied with a quiet smile. “You did no harm. I... I liked it.”

“Nevertheless. You are too young, and I am your teacher.”

“You won't be my teacher forever,” she said quietly. 

“No,” he acquiesced, “but for two more years I will be, unless the war ends sooner. And I do not expect I will survive the war.”

“No, you can't...”

“Miss Granger, I am a spy. People in my position rarely live long. I am resigned to that.”

“Please don't... I don't want you to die.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I do not desire death, but my position is precarious. Miss Granger... you are a very beautiful, attractive and talented young witch. I am over twice your age, and I have a dark past.”

“It doesn't matter to me.”

“I understand, but yet it is inappropriate. You are very attractive and lovely, but I cannot, will not abuse my position. We have been thrust to this situation, but I will do my best to avoid such indiscretions. I am...”

“Please don't, sir. I do understand,” she replied, her eyes filled with regret. 

“Good.”

“I'll take a shower now, and then we should have time for some sightseeing,” she said, placing her emptied plate and cup into the trolley, and hastily went to the shower. Severus sighed quietly in regret as he, too, finished his breakfast. He'd also have to report to Albus.


	19. Chapter 19

It didn't take Severus long to report the previous meeting's proceedings to Dumbledore. Albus never did care that he'd been tortured: he received a mild chastisement for reporting late, and the Headmaster heavily implied that having Miss Granger assist him in recovery was both undeserved and unnecessary: he was supposed to atone, Dumbledore had said years ago, and he'd paid and paid and paid again with both his blood and his pain. 

Somehow, after his explosive orgasm against the lovely Hermione Granger and her own admission that she'd enjoyed it made it more tolerable. Not that he'd ever allow Albus Dumbledore to find out that piece of information: he his it behind the strongest walls of his Occlumency.

Albus sent him off with with the advice to inform the Dark Lord that Dumbledore had only given Slughorn a sanctuary just to spite him, upon hearing that he'd wanted Slughorn's services. He also informed Severus that after Miss Granger's tour abroad would be concluded and they'd returned back to her home, he'd be visiting the Grangers. That did not bide well: Albus had a history of using people unscrupulously. Once, when he'd been very drunk, he'd told Severus that Tom Riddle had once been a marvellous player of chess, and that Albus considered it his own task to play against the Dark Lord on the chess board called Earth. The thought of being considered nothing more than a pawn in a huge game of wizard's chess chilled him to the bone. Albus Dumbledore was at least as cold-blooded and manipulative as the Dark Lord himself.

Returning to Granger was both painful and pleasant. His heart leapt at the sight of her, dressed in a lovely little summer dress, with a pair of shades and wide-brimmed hat adorning her curls: the sights of Germany awaited for them. And so they spent a lovely afternoon together in Münich: partially thanks to Granger's shades and hat she was only rarely recognised, blending in with the various tourists. He expected to receive some looks from people who'd see a tall, dark-haired and middle-aged man escorting a young girl about the city, but he spotted none: for once he pretended to be just a normal man, escorting a lovely young woman in town. Perhaps he could pretend to be on a date, he mused, when a waiter in a nice restaurant brought them their meal: he tasted what Hermione had ordered and allowed her to taste his portion: they shared generous spoonfuls of their dessert and conversed about books and their travels. 

After the soundchecks and the concert they returned to the hotel, testing the hotel's saunas and swam in the pool: Severus floated on his back, languidly letting the heat and water soothe his muscles that still faintly ached from the Cruciatus. Hermione rented the pool for the night for private use: it was usually closed so late, but for a foreign star such services were gladly offered, and no other hotel guests were allowed in the facilities. 

They returned to their rooms calm, soothed and clean, and bade each other good night in the corridor. She slowly went to her room, though it was so easy to see that she'd wanted to stay with him — oh that Gryffindor habit of displaying every emotion so openly, so easily seen by the consummate Slytherin — and though he could hide such sentimentality from her, he could not help but to remember the exquisite pleasure when he fell apart against her in an explosion of delighted pleasure, and admit to himself that the pleasure given by his hand was a meagre relief compared to pressing against Hermione, smelling the sweet scent of her skin and feeling her curly, unruly hair.

***************************************

They spent two more days after the concert in Germany, where Hermione made a signing at two local music stores to promote her new CD. Severus lingered about and fought to suppress his jealousy as her fans approached her. Though most of them only wanted her autograph, perhaps to exchange a few words with their idol, take a photograph or shake her hand, she was quite frequently approached with lewd suggestions and unwanted advances: in Dublin Hank and one of the store's own security guys had to physically remove one bloke in his early twenties when he'd tried to reach over and grope Granger. She took it all in stride, telling him that it was more than common, but Severus found it increasingly difficult not to hex the boys and men who ogled her. Something inside him wanted to scream 'mine, she's mine', though he knew it was untrue and wrong: but that miserable and lonely part of his brain desperately wanted her for his own.

They had more of those lovely hours in Germany, in the streets of Münich, before they packed their bags and headed to Paris. 

 

***************************************

At Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore tested the battery-operated radio and smiled to himself as the tones from Wizarding Wireless Network filled his office. While most Muggle technology malfunctioned at Hogwarts, the smaller battery-operated machines could actually use the magic instead of their batteries, and a few Charms from Filius would probably make sure that these radios would not suffer from the bursts of magic. 

Albus hummed while the tones of Celestina Warbeck filled his office: soon he'd start a campaign to promote a new, hot star in the Wizarding world, and the songs of Mione G would fill the halls whenever he wanted them to. She'd influence the students positively, but more importantly, she'd distract Tom and his minions by influencing the offspring of the Death Eaters: soon they'd be spending an increasing amount of resources and energy to a decoy called Mione G, who'd distract them just enough for him and young Harry to complete their mission and bring down Tom Riddle. 

Young Harry reminded him so much of young Gellert. So had young Tom Riddle, once. So much... potential. Albus sighed. So much potential wasted. Waste truly was a sin...


	20. Chapter 20

The rest of the tour went through like a breeze. Severus was summoned twice, but received no further punishment and managed to relay the false information about why Slughorn had been allowed into the castle, as well as alert the Order of a planned strike against a Muggle-born and his family: the Order managed to protect the family of five, and the assault, headed by Goyle sr., returned empty-handed, having only torched the house their intended victims had lived in. That night it'd been Goyle's turn to writhe on the floor under Cruciatus, and Severus felt no pity for his old friend: Goyle was a sadistic animal. 

He toured Paris with Granger, and Hank the bodyguard took a few nice Muggle photographs of the two in various sites around Paris. They skipped the Eiffel tower but spent time in the museums. Granger spoke fluent French, and she was extremely popular among her French fans: they were extremely touched when she used their own language to speak to them and did an interview in the French television in French, and when she sang an extra song in French to finish her gig, the spectators went wild. 

After the Paris gig they spent a week and a half at the Granger home, then flew to Milan for the final concert. Granger didn't speak Italian but they were supplied with a translator, and the Italians spoke fluent English. They were hospitable and charming hosts, and both he and Granger thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Truthfully Severus had to admit he hadn't enjoyed a summer this much in years, if ever.

He also had to admit he was falling deeply in love with Hermione Granger, and wasn't that just the deepest hole of shit he'd ever landed in? She was so young, so rich, so popular and so incredibly beautiful: even without her carefully crafted stage make-up she was very pretty, with a delectable body that she'd kept so well hidden under the voluminous school uniforms, but in make-up she was breathtaking, beautiful enough to stop a man's heart. 

He still taught her various combat techniques, and every time he touched her he feared that either one of them would crumble. She wore her heart in her sleeve, and her emotions were so easy to read: the way she flushed when she looked at him, the way she chewed her lower lip or averted her gaze when he looked at her. He'd been a teacher long enough to recognise the signs of a crush on a girl, though he'd never thought he'd see the day when those emotions were caused by him. But a crush of a teenager was so often just a passing phase, and she'd been crushing over the Weasley boy for years: he was simply there now, and when they'd return to the school, she'd no doubt forget her nasty Potions Master.

The days after they'd returned home — he'd been shocked when he found himself mentally thinking of the Granger residence as 'home' — they received a visit from Headmaster Dumbledore. Albus arrived dressed in absolutely garish lime green suit with neon pink and purple highlights, and after Mrs Granger courteously guided him to the table, John Granger nearly collapsed on the floor in a fit of laughter silenced with his hand. Almost hysterical tears of laughter escaped from the corners of his eyes and he silently beat the wall with his other fist, doubling over in suppressed laughter. Severus fought back his laughter, and his amused glance was enough to send John into further fits of laughter.

“Is he really like that?” John asked, when he'd finally sufficiently recovered. 

“Yes,” Severus replied, “his colour sense is more than strange, though he usually wears robes. He simply transfigures them into a suit.”

“Good God,” John Granger said with a wide grin and schooled his features before they, too, followed Helen and Albus to the dining room, where Helen had already poured the tea and served Albus a large slice of cake and several cookies. Albus' eyes twinkled happily. Hermione had also joined the table and Albus was asking her about the tour in Europe. They drank tea, conversing lightly about the holiday.

“The holiday will end in two weeks,” Albus finally said, “and I would need you to confirm the syllabus at potions. Horace would also wish to discuss the students with you, and you'll need to confirm the order for supplies and ingredients for this year. If you could come to the school this week for a day? And I wouldn't wish you to leave Miss Granger unguarded, so you could bring her along with you.”

“Of course, Albus,” Severus replied.

“Now, Miss Granger...” Albus continued, “I would like to make a request for you. I have listened to your music and your songs, and you truly impressed me. The words are filled with positive messages and they truly lift the spirits. Did I understand correctly that you write your own songs?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Have you ever considered giving a performance in the Wizarding world?”

“No, sir,” she said, blushing, “I didn't want to cause trouble at the school, and to concentrate on my studies...”

“My dear Miss Granger, I believe you could have passed your N.E.W.T.s a year ago with flying colours. I would consider it a great service if you did, indeed, give a performance or two in the Wizarding world. My dear girl, I believe you have the chance to become more popular than Celestina Warbeck or The Weird Sisters. Your music would lift the spirits of the people, especially in the school, and would show the Muggle-borns in a very positive light.”

“Oh... do you really think so?” Granger asked, clearly astounded.

“Of course. I have been a teacher for decades, and I would never underestimate the positive influence of a girl like you. I believe you could really help if you'd allow us to get to know Mione G as well as the brilliant Hermione Granger.”

“If you really think so, I'll do it! I have some songs that I could never perform because of the Statute of Secrecy, and I can alter the lyrics of some others...”

“Yes, of course, though your lovely positive attitude and your singing voice means a lot too.”

“But I cannot really perform without my band, and they're Muggles. And my make-up artists, the lights... I have a few costumes but...”

“We'll help you with those, Miss Granger, you needn't worry. I believe the Wizarding wireless would be interested in playing your music.”

The conversation droned on, and Severus squeezed his fork with his knuckles white with outrage. Albus was going to use Hermione as a tool. And what about her safety, her security?

When Albus finally stood to leave, happily bidding farewell to Miss Granger and her parents, Severus followed him into the garden. “What the fuck do you think you are doing, Albus?” he hissed in fury.

“I don't know what you mean, Severus,” Albus replied calmly.

“You cannot use her like this! What about her safety? The second the Dark Lord finds out about her, he will order a strike here. And need I remind you he will also find me protecting them? You are risking Miss Granger, her parents and your spy for some idiotic little scheme...”

“Do not worry, Severus. I do not propose to spread the word of her talent before you return to Hogwarts.”

“And her parents? Helen and John Granger are good, decent people!”

“The Order will protect them. If necessary, we will hide them in one of our safe houses. She is incredibly important, Severus. You are not... you are not developing any attachment to the girl, are you?”

“Of course not!” Severus lied. “She is my student and under my protection. I have seen too many good people destroyed in this damn war, and her family has shown me great kindness and hospitality beyond anything I have experienced before. They do not deserve such fate.”

“She will not be destroyed, Severus. We will protect her. But remember, Severus, your duty lies with young Harry and protecting him. Remember Lily Evans.” The warning in Albus' eyes was obvious, and Severus could do nothing but back down. To resist now would put them in danger, and one great risk was being separated from Hermione.

“Return to Hogwarts this week for a day, Thursday would be fine if you can. Bring Miss Granger with you, she is much too valuable to be left without a guardian.”

 

***********************************************************'

 

An hour later Hermione found him in the gym, fiercely battering the punching bag. He was filled with complete and utter fury, but his muscles were tired. Hermione stood there and waited before she crossed the floor, and Severus stopped beating to bag, panting slightly before he slumped on the floor. She, too, sat by him.

“What's wrong?” she asked. “Did the Headmaster say something?”

“He plans to use you. He will use you like a chess piece, putting you in danger.”

“I'm already in danger. I'm the Muggle-born best friend of Harry Potter. I doubt singing will endanger me any further.”

“It will,” Severus said resolutely. “I could not bare it if you would be...”

“I won't,” she said, closing the distance between them, and kissing his chin gingerly. Severus sighed but did not stop her: the kisses felt like a balm on his sore soul. “I'll be careful.” 

“You are too much a Gryffindor, Hermione. Too fierce, too brave...”

“Am not!” she said, continuing her little kisses.

“Yes, you are, little lioness,” he sighed and kissed her back, unable to resist the softness of her skin. They next kiss landed on her lips, and with clouded minds they kissed repeatedly, the tentative kisses deepening gradually as she drew closer until she was sitting on his lap, her hands behind his neck as he steadied her with his arms.

“When we return to the school this must remain a secret,” he said with deepest regret. “If the word got out of how I... how we... I will have to treat you badly again, say those things I wish I would never have to say to you.”

“I'll remember you don't want to,” she replied, kissing him again.

“How can you be so forgiving?” he asked. “The things I've said...”

“You're a spy. It doesn't matter any more.”

“You are so forgiving, so lovely... oh Hermione...” he groaned, deepening their kiss again, and she let out a delighted little whimper, rocking on his lap in a way that had him see stars behind his eyes. He could do nothing but allow her to rock against him, and his hips responded by their own accord, until his orgasm was once again upon him, unexpected and passionate and so deep it left him breathless and trembling. “Oh how I love you, Hermione,” he groaned before he could catch those words that had escaped from his mouth. He yearned to touch her, to caress her until she, too, would come, to see her in the throes of orgasm, but he dared not touch her. 

“I love you too... Severus,” she said back, and the sweet words felt like fire in his chest.

“You are too young, Hermione,” he whispered.

“Yet old enough to know how I feel,” she replied, and he could do nothing but hold her close.


	21. Interludes and Intermissions III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second, a bit shorter chapter for today, to apologise for not updating sooner. I've been a bit ill.

Vernon Dursley was at the verge of a meltdown as he stared at his son. Petunia gaped with horror in her eyes. “You want us to WHAT?” Vernon bellowed.

“We'll take Harry to the train. He knows Mione G!”

“Mione who?” Petunia stuttered.

“Mione G is the most sexy, wonderful pop star in the world!” Dudley said, and Harry resisted rolling his eyes. His summer had improved after Dudley had crushed over Hermione and received a signed special photo through Harry: “To Dudley from Mione G, XXXX” written under the photo in ink, and Dudley had snatched the photo with a starstruck expression and disappeared into his bedroom for two whole days, only emerging to procure snacks and pop. Aunt Petunia had to deliver his meals on a tray into his room. 

“And what's that got to do with Harry?” Vernon howled.

“She's in his class,” Dudley replied calmly.

“She's another freak?!” Vernon yelled, his face turning to an unattractive shade of puce and his voice undoubtedly loud enough to alert the neighbours.

“She's not a freak!” Dudley defended his idol, “She's perfect. Harry promised to introduce me!”

“Why you little...” Vernon began, turning toward Harry, but Dudley was having none of it. 

“I want to! I want to see Mione G! I want to go!”

“But now, now, Dudders...” Petunia cooed.

“I WANT TO SEE MIONE G!” Dudley's voice was nearing the higher octaves.

“We'll go, of course we'll go, don't be upset, dear,” Petunia placated, shoving Vernon in his gut. “Won't we, Vernon?”

“Of course,” Vernon hissed, casting a venomous glance at Harry.

 

*****************************************************************

 

Mrs Patil Apparated her daughter Parvati to Mr and Mrs Brown's garden and Disapparated after only the briefest of greetings. The two girls were very close at school, and they met during the summer to gossip and have sleepovers. This time Parvati was bringing some special news: she'd been browsing Muggle fashion magazines when she came across an article about a certain new and rising star and her incredible wardrobe.

“Look, Lav! It's Hermione Granger!”

“Bloody hell! It is! But she's a goody two-shoes, and she's wearing... oh Merlin, that is just too cool! Oh, and look, look at that... oh wow, I so want a top like that. Do you think Madam Malkins would...?”

Two hours later Mrs Brown called for her daughter and Parvati to come down for dinner. The two had spent their time in Lavender's bedroom, though at some point the steps indicated they'd gone to the bathroom, where they spent time doing their hair, judging by the exclamations and squeals.

When the two entered, Mrs Brown had to fight not to drop the dish she was levitating when she saw what her daughter and her friend had done. “Lavender, what on earth happened to your hair? Why is is so... bushy?”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the timeline: I love the idea of how adding, removing or changing one variable in a long equation might change the result, which is why I wanted Harry to return to the Burrow much later than in canon. I also wanted Ron's reaction to be more fresh, so he doesn't have too much time to adjust to the idea of Hermione's secret. I'll be doing a lot of that, seeing how the one new variable — Mione G — might change the outcome. It's not maths, but it'll do ;)

Ten days before the start of term Harry walked into the Burrow. Headmaster Dumbledore had picked him up earlier from the Dursleys and told them he'd be taking him to Diagon Alley and to the Burrow for the rest of the holiday. Dudley had actually thrown a fit when he'd heard that his cousin would be departing earlier, but he'd gotten his parents to promise they'd be at King's Cross for the departure of the train to 'See Harry Off'. Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen the Headmaster so flabbergasted. He'd tried to lecture them that they'd best welcome Harry back for the next summer, only to hear that his cousin wanted him home for the holidays if at all possible.

Dumbledore had first taken him to the Order Headquarters at 12, Grimmauld Place to secure it, since Sirius had left it to him, and to make sure that the house-elf Kreacher truly obeyed him. He had, though Kreacher was not happy about it. The next stop had been Diagon Alley, so that Harry could purchase his school supplies. Dumbledore had told him he'd been too busy for the summer to come earlier, which was a real pity: though Dudley wasn't as intolerable as before, the change in him felt weird and creepy. He did NOT want to think of his cousin wanking over his best friend.

The Weasley family was preparing dinner when Harry knocked on the door. Dumbledore had dropped him off and left immediately, leaving Harry behind. The rest of the family was thrilled to see him, and Ginny blushed adorably. The Weasleys had been surprised when Harry hadn't joined them for the Diagon Alley shopping trip like he usually did, but understood Harry's explanation.

“Mione wasn't there either. We tried to owl her to ask to meet her, but she replied she was too busy,” Ron said, eyeing the dishes hopefully.

“She's probably still on tour,” Harry said. 

“Tour?”

“I just found out early this summer when I caught Dudley, well, never mind, but he has a poster of Hermione in his bedroom. Hermione is a singer.”

“No she's not,” Ron dismissed.

“She is. Very popular too. She's in telly, in magazines, there are Muggle shirts with her pictures on them... Dudley buys her CD's...”

“No, no way. No. 'Mione wouldn't. She's... 'Mione.”

“She does.” Harry shrugged. “I don't have any of the pictures with me because Dudley wants them all for himself. He has a bloody big crush on her.”

“Bloody hell! 'Mione? Our 'Mione?”

“Watch your language, Ronald Weasley!”

“Sorry mum!”

“Yeah, our 'Mione. She goes by the name of Mione G.”

“Yes, she's very— ” said George.

“— talented,” Fred continued.

“Might become the next Celestina Warbeck,” George said.

“So we've already been planning Hermione Granger dolls,” Fred added.

“WHAT?!” Ron wailed. “You knew and didn't tell me?! She didn't tell me? How could she not tell me?!” Ron was fast turning red with rage.

“Not our problem if— ”

“— you don't keep an ear on the news,” the twins said with a shrug.

“Mum, I need your help to send a Howler.”

“You are NOT doing that, Ronald Bilius Weasley!” Molly screeched. “I am upset she did not trust us, but you'll not be sending anyone any Howlers, young man.”

“But muuuuuum.... Ow!”

Molly had knocked Ron with a spatula on the back of his skull.

 

***********************************************************

 

The day before the start of term Hermione and Severus sat in the guest bedroom. The next day Tonks would arrive to escort Hermione to Platform nine and three-quarters, from where she'd take the Hogwarts Express back to Hogwarts. 

Hermione had gone twice to Hogwarts with Severus as he prepared for the upcoming term: she'd spent the time in the Potions classroom, where Severus gave her a book from his own collection to read, as the library wasn't open yet. He wished he could have shown her his private quarters and let her browse his personal collection, but he feared increasing their familiarity. Taking her to his private rooms would have felt extremely intimate.

Not that this situation felt anything less. The two orgasms he'd experienced in her arms, the time he'd confessed falling in love with her, when she'd held her and he'd held her in turn... the knowledge that tomorrow morning they'd have to separate and most likely only see in the Great Halls or in classroom for the potions lessons was depressing. They'd both gotten used to spending all their time together. 

Earlier that day she'd helped him clear the room he'd used for brewing, and he'd dropped off the items quickly at Hogwarts. A few hours after that he'd been Summoned, but the visit had been brief: the Dark Lord had ranted and raved like he sometimes did, and Draco Malfoy had been threatened to fulfil his mission or his parents would face to consequences, though the purpose had been kept secret: Bellatrix obviously knew by the way she cackled, and Severus was quite certain it had to do with an attempt on Dumbledore's life, but he was certain there was something more to it. He didn't even know how the boy planned on doing it: he was just a boy of sixteen, up against one of the most powerful wizards of all time. He'd have no chance at all, and Draco looked like he knew it. 

The Dark Lord wanted a brief status report from Severus, but did not seem overly upset when Severus could report no great changes, apart from Slughorn's presence in the castle. He seemed preoccupied, and Severus reported everything to Albus before he once again returned to the Granger home, the place he'd learned to love more than Spinner's End during the summer. It felt more like home than Hogwarts ever had. 

John and Helen Granger had served a veritable feast for him: they'd be departing early to work now that Tonks was taking Hermione to the train, but they made sure that Severus knew he'd be welcome back any time. Severus felt a guilty ache in his heart: would they be so welcoming if they knew that the Professor had orgasmed against their only daughter, a girl or mere sixteen, nineteen years younger than he was? Would they still want to see him if they'd known how desperately he yearned to touch her and to love her? He doubted it.

But now he sat with Hermione in the room he'd called his for the summer. He'd packed most of his luggage: it was late in the evening, nearly bedtime. 

“I want to go and swim a bit,” Hermione suddenly said.

“Now? It is past eleven.”

“Yes. Moonlight swim. Come with me?”

“Miss Granger...”

“Hermione. Please. Just until you have to leave, please let me be Hermione?”

“Very well, Hermione,” he sighed. 

“Come?”

“I will need my swimming trunks.”

“Good, I'll get changed too. I'll be back in a bit.”

They quietly made their way to the swimming pool, waving the night-shift bodyguard away. Severus found that while he hadn't exactly made friends with them, he'd learned to appreciate the highly professional Muggle men. They had always been polite and even friendly, and though Severus was quite certain that Tony suspected something more than just familial friendship between cousins was between them — Hermione wasn't all that good in hiding her emotions — he never said anything, as far as Severus knew.

The water felt chilling in the evening air, but Hermione did not hesitate to sink in and begin a lap. She looked unbelievably beautiful in the moonlight, devoid of her make-up, dressed in a simple bikini that made his throat feel dry and his heart rate increase.

Severus, too, used the railing for support as he lowered himself into the water. After a while the chilling passed, and the water felt warmer than the air. Hermione smiled and swam towards him: she came just in front of him and oh so sweetly kissed him. He allowed her, of course, powerless to resist her, and he pulled her against his chest as she explored his lips. Her tongue tested his lips and he deepened the kiss further, feeling himself harden as her lovely body pressed against his skinny limbs, heating up the fire in his veins. 

His hand caressed her breast, and he allowed his fingers to raise her bra enough the caress a nipple: she moaned and her body arched. He raised her, the water supporting most of her weight, and exposed the breast further, kissing the nipple gently, then pulling it into his mouth.

He'd never done any of these things, not with anyone, and his body felt like it was on fire with desperate lust as his tongue laved her nipple and his other hand made its way to her bikini bottoms. His mind felt hazy and foggy as he finally allowed his fingers to caress her folds, before he found the little nub and circled it with his finger. He couldn't wait to see her come, to see her in her own peak of ecstasy. His hips pressed repeatedly against her foot, sending sparks on desire into his limbs, and used her breast to suppress his own moans of pleasure: she whimpered and gasped as his fingers worked in her folds, until she tensed for a moment, and then shook and shuddered in his arms, as her orgasm overtook her. That was all that he needed to send him over the edge as well, and he stifled a moan as his cock twitched and the pleasure took over all his senses. 

They stood there for Merlin knew how long, their minds still fogged with the sudden outpouring of lust and fear of loss, until Severus slowly lowered her down, letting his mouth depart from her nipple. She still held on to her, feeling almost boneless, with an expression of sleepy contentment in her eyes, and he knew she'd see the responding expression in his. 

“I love you so, Hermione.”

“I love you, Severus Snape.”

“Let's get back inside before you catch a cold.”

They quietly made their way back inside and upstairs, where she slipped into his room.

“Severus... I hate this. I don't want to be apart. I want to be with you, to be with you, to... to make love with you.”

“I would want nothing more, but you are too young and all too good for me, little love. I really should not have done that, touched you in indecent ways, but I certainly will not... have you ever been with a man?”

“You mean...? No, I'm... I've never done that. You were the first to touch there, and...”

“I cannot take your innocence, Hermione, no matter how much I desire you. You are pure and wonderful. Beautiful, kind, compassionate, and I am old. I have done so many terrible things.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me, little love.”

“Please...” she said, kissing him on the lips. 

“No, little love. I love you so much, but we cannot do this,” he mumbled through their kisses, fighting the haze of lust that once again rose inside his head. He gently pulled away from her lips, trailing kisses to her neck and collarbone and letting his hands slip from her arms into her hands, before he regretfully stepped away. 

“You need to go to sleep, little love,” he said, caressing her knuckles with his thumb before he let go of her hand. “But I want you to remember that no matter the things I might have to say to you, no matter how I might appear back at Hogwarts, I want you to know that I truly do love you.”


	23. Chapter 23

The next morning was a sombre affair. Neither of them had slept well: both yearning to take yet one more step further, yet one further touch and contact to seal what had already begun. John and Helen Granger left early after a brief breakfast: Hermione and Severus lingered a bit on the table before returning to the guest bedroom.

“I wanted to ask you about your wand,” Hermione said.

“What about it?”

“When I used it to avoid the trace in Germany, something happened. At first your wand felt weird and alien, much like many of the wands I tested at Ollivanders when I bought mine, but then there was a change. It was quite sudden, and then I could easily use it.”

“It didn't resist you at all?”

“No. It didn't feel exactly as natural as my own wand, but very, very close. But they're not the same, are they? Mine's vine wood with dragon heartstring core.”

“Mine is hawthorn with dragon heartstring, and longer than yours. I'm more experienced and channel a lot more power through mine, including Dark Magic, so I would have expected some resistance. Would you... allow me to test with yours?”

Lending a wand of another was usually not done, but Hermione had no objections, and she handed her wand to Severus. Her wand seemed small in his hands.

“Your wand felt like it recognised me,” Hermione told him. Severus concentrated and yes, he definitely felt it: a momentary resistance and then the wand accepted and approved him. He'd used Avery's wand once when the Marauders had managed to break his, and he remembered it felt different: like it wasn't exactly right. But Hermione's wand did not resist, not at all.

“Yes, I felt it too. Some reluctance at first, and I know that if I had tried a wand like this at Ollivanders, it wouldn't have been right. But then the wand seemed to accept and the power runs smoothly. I've tried another wizard's wand once, and it did not feel like this.”

“Did he give his wand voluntarily?”

“Yes, so that is not the issue here. We know that 'the wand chooses the wizard', but...” Severus trailed off. “Perhaps the matter can be examined further at a later date. But more importantly, Hermione, I want you to be careful this year. You know Dumbledore wants to use you as his pawn, but do not take any unnecessary risks, and do not let those two idiots draw you again into trouble, little love.”

“They're not idiots.”

“Oh yes they are,” he said, reaching to kiss her lips to silence her protests. “And you must remember that you cannot address me by my first name or show any familiarity to me,” he reminded her. “There are hundreds of eyes all around Hogwarts. It is not just the Slytherin students you need to watch for: many others would gladly tell the Headmaster if I revealed how I feel about you. Any member of the staff would tell him, and I would be either sacked and sent to Azkaban or killed by the Dark Lord for consorting with a Muggle-born. The portraits gossip, and the ghosts may also talk. We need to be careful. I should have spent time teaching you Occlumency,” he sighed, “you'd probably have done better than Potter ever did. If you speak with the Headmaster, avoid looking into his eyes. And if you feel a small niggling inside your mind, do something like jump to your feet and start pacing or make an excuse and walk away. He's very careful and subtle with Legilimency and uses it wandlessly: sometimes he can do so without anyone noticing. I really should have considered this...” he groaned. 

“It's so unfair.”

“Life is not fair, little love,” he sighed. “I will miss you every day.” He kissed her again, and she responded with fervour, slipping into his lap. The kisses distracted them for quite a while and began to turn heated.

“I think it would be prudent if you did not mention your little cohorts that I spent the holiday with you,” he panted. 

“Why?” she asked. “They might learn to finally trust you.”

“If Dumbledore wanted them to trust me, he would have worked harder to prove it,” Severus said. “And I doubt that either of them is really smart enough to believe you. They would suspect I have used and abused you, perhaps Confunded or slipped a potion and seduced you...” he kissed her again.

“The seduction was two-sided,” she mumbled and allowed her hand to roam on his body. He hissed as her hand reached his groin and his hips jerked. “Little love, we cannot...”

Just then the doorbell rang and they heard Tony go for the door. Severus cursed, scampering to his feet. “Blasted! It must be Nymphadora. We have to go. Little love, remember that I love you. If I die during this year, please remember that.”

Hermione nuzzled her face to his neck and drew in his scent. “I love you too, Severus. Please don't die.”

“I will do my best. Go now and get Tonks in. I will shrink my bags and then we'll shrink yours for the journey, little love.”

Hermione nodded and with great regret ran downstairs. Tony had allowed Tonks into the foyer.

“Wotcher, Mione!” she greeted her. She'd dressed Muggle and her usually colourful hair was mousy brown and lank. She'd lost weight and looked quite malnourished: she didn't seem to be on a very happy mood, but was doing her best to disguise it. “Great house! We've got some time, wanna give me a tour?”

“Sure! Professor Snape is just packing his bags in the guest room.”

“Hope you didn't have a terrible summer with the old bat,” Tonks joked, and Hermione had to struggle to bite back a nasty retort. 

“No, Professor Snape has been very polite to everyone, a perfect gentleman. He hasn't bothered me at all,” she said politely, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. The lack of respect annoyed her, but then again, Tonks didn't really seem to respect anyone, not even Moody. 

She led the impressed Auror around the house and offered her refreshments, hoping to get at least something into her belly. Tonks accepted a slice of cake and a glass of juice, which she carried upstairs. Severus walked out of the guest bedroom just as they reached the second floor.

“Nymphadora,” he greeted her, well aware that using the name irked her.

“Don't call me Nymphadora,” she snapped, and her hair turned to an angry shade of red before she got it under control. Severus snorted. “Miss Granger, I believe it is time to shrink your luggage. I shall take my leave now. Good day, Granger, Nymphadora...” he said and walked away briskly. 

“Intolerable greasy bat!” Tonks mumbled. “You got your trunk then? I'll shrink it and then we'll be off.”


	24. Chapter 24

After she's said her farewells to Tony, Hermione followed Tonks outside and along the garden path until they were out of line of sight. Tonks cast a Disillusionment Charm on them, and then they doubled back to the backyard so that they both could Disapparate safely and without being seen by Muggles. Tonks was trying to be careful and only tripped once on some uneven pavement stones, and though Tony was very good at his job, they managed the feat well. 

They Apparated in front of 12, Grimmauld Place, where a Ministry car was waiting for them, and the car took her and Tonks to platform nine and three-quarters. Tonks ushered her in, but they had to turn back and visit a loo to cast the Disillusionment Charm on Hermione again, when it turned out it was impossible for her to enter through the barrier without being observed by Muggles. Tonks and was rather surprised when a the first high-pitched squeal penetrated the air: “IT'S MIONE G!”. Hermione had to give a few autographs before she could turn tail and flee. 

The situation on platform nine and three-quarters was marginally better, but not perfect, not by a long shot. 

“Look, it's Mione G”

“What?”

“But that's just Granger.”

“Mione G!”

“Guys, Mione G!”

“Hush, she'll hear us!”

“No, you dolt, she's a star.”

“Do you have a quill? I want her autograph!”

“Mione G!”

“Why's she dressed like that? Where's the skimpy top?”

“You're kidding.”

“Mione G...”

Hermione had already gotten used to fans, but the attention from Hogwarts students was unusual and unnerving, when they'd only seen her as the Gryffindor swot and bookworm for five years. There were the popular girls and then on the other end was Hermione J. Granger, who was great in studies and when one needed advice on academic matters. 

Ron and Harry hadn't arrived yet, and Hermione quickly entered the train. Tonks began to usher her towards an empty compartment, but she quickly explained that her duty was to go to the prefect carriage and patrol the corridor until the train departed. Tonks seemed slightly uncomfortable but followed her and waited outside the prefect carriage.

The carriage was almost empty: empty save Draco Malfoy, who looked, well, terrible, to be frank. His eyes seemed haunted and his whole countenance radiated depression before he saw her, at which point his face drew into the customary arrogant sneer. “Huh. The Mudblood then. Come to sing a little song?”

“Not now, Malfoy,” she sighed, too tired and sad to start an argument. She slumped on a seat with a sigh, refusing to give up and leave.

“Where are Potty and Weasel? You three seem joint at the hip.”

“They're coming from Ronald's home, I imagine,” she shrugged. 

“Ah, the worthless heap of trash they call home.”

“Lay off, Malfoy, I'm not in the mood.”

To her surprise, he did stop. An uncomfortable silence lasted a while, although they could hear the sounds of students from the train and the platform. After a while Hermione realised that Malfoy was actually casting glances at her, though he mostly kept his eyes on his lap. 

“What?” she finally asked.

“What?” he asked.

“Did you have something to say?”

“No... no. I think I'll go sit with my friends for a while,” he said, taking his leave just as Marcus Turner, Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan entered the carriage. 

“Hermione, hi!” Hannah shouted. “I saw you on telly!”

“Oh, hey Hannah,” Hermione greeted the Hufflepuff prefect. 

“Is it true then?” Ernie asked. “Everyone says you're a big star.”

“Not that big, I think, but I do gigs and tours, sell records...”

“Well, you poor Mudbloods have to earn your money in some way,” sneered Pansy Parkinson, who'd just entered the carriage. 

“Shut it, Parkinson. You're just jealous,” Marcus said. Pansy huffed in derision and left, probably in search of Malfoy. Soon, the prefects began to arrive, and Ron Weasley entered just after Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil. 

“Hey Ron!” she greeted her friend.

“So I'm worth saying 'hey' to, am I?” he said loudly.

“What?”

“Since when have you been so big on keeping secrets, 'Mione? Or is it 'Mione G'? I thought we were friends!”

“We are!”

“Then how could you keep something like this from me?!” Ron argued. The carriage was silent as the people watched and observed their exchange.

“I'm sorry! I didn't want to, you know, boast. And it started small, I really didn't even think it'd get that big. And it's never really had any effect on my life at school, you see...”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ron snapped. 

“Settle down now,” Marcus Turner, the current Head Boy, said. “I think it's time to begin patrolling. New prefects, please stay behind for advice about duties. The others feel free to head off. We have a few Aurors on board to supervise tonight, but we'll do routine.”

Hermione sighed and headed into the corridor... and into the madhouse, as it turned out.

The first indication that something was wrong was Lavender Brown. Her familiar high-pitched squeal was recognisable at a distance to Hermione, who'd shared her dorm room with Lavender and Parvati for five years. What she did not recognise was her... hair. Lavender was the master of beauty Charms. She adored, worshipped and practically breathed anything to do with hair, make-up and hair-do's, and to catch Lavender with a snapped nail was just inviting disaster. Lavender's hair, which was usually done to perfection, was now... well, bushy didn't quite cut it. It was actually bigger than Hermione's, if that was even possible. It looked like she'd stuck her finger into an electrical socket three times, brushed it using a living hedgehog and then botched a Drying Charm on top of it all.

Hermione stared at it and blinked. Blinked again. And for the third time.

“Do you like it?” Lavender squealed. “You inspired me!” Lav was also dressed in clothes that contained about the same amount of fabric as her stage outfits, and several boys were staring at her rear end appreciatively. 

“Ummm...”

“Mine didn't come out as nicely,” Parvati Patil said next to her, and Hermione realised that she, too, had curled her beautiful black hair, which was stunning in its usual state, and now looked rather strange and frazzled. “I guess my hair type doesn't react that well to what we could use, and we couldn't use magic at home. We'll have to start testing now, though.”

“We saw an article of you in a mag,” Lavender squealed. “Your outfits were so awesome! There was a long article just about your footwear. Will you show us some of them? Do you have them with you?”

“Ummm, I have some in my trunk,” Hermione confessed, “but not many, since most are in the care and I can't lug everything...”

“Oh Merlin, this is going to be so AWESOME!” Parvati and Lavender squealed, jumping up and down like two energetic puppies. “And you'll sing, won't you, you have to sing!”

“Ummm....”


	25. Chapter 25

Suddenly Harry's voice called for her. “Mione, over here! I've been looking all over for you. Come and say hi!”

Hermione quickly exited the train to greet Molly and Arthur Weasley. Molly enveloped her quickly into a warm, maternal hug, and Arthur was almost as enthusiastic, hoping to ask questions about Muggle music. She promised to owl him the answers if he'd send her a letter with his questions, and Arthur happily agreed: he had too many anyway. Ginny had already gone into the train, but the Dursleys were an unpleasant surprise. Mr and Mrs Dursley looked around them with a mixture of dread and distaste, but the boy Hermione could guess was Dudley was staring at her with an expression she'd gotten used to seeing in the faces of various rabid fans. 

“Mione, this is my cousin Dudley Dursley,” Harry introduced them, rolling his eyes when his back was turned to Dudley, though he shouldn't have bothered, because Dudley didn't take his eyes off her for a second. “And aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.”

“How do you do,” greeted Hermione politely and smiled at them. Dudley let out an embarrassing whimper, especially coming from a bloke who was approximately the size of a wardrobe and looked about as intelligent as Crabbe or Goyle. 

“...hi...” Dudley managed, and Hermione put on her best face that she'd been taught for meeting fans.

“Nice to meet you, Dudley,” she said and extended her hand: Dudley took it reverently, holding it like it might break, and shook it for a ridiculously long time. His hands were clammy, and Hermione groaned in disgust internally. 

“Um, I, yes, cousin, yes, Harry's...” Dudley stuttered.

“Did you get the autograph Harry asked for you?”

Dudley nodded mutely. 

“Good,” she said with a smile, feeling a bit bereft. Usually even the most crazed fans had something to say.

“...please sing...?”

“Excuse me?”

“Um. Would you, please, sing a song?” Dudley tried again, clearing his throat and trying to correct his posture.

“Oh... I guess I could, the train isn't leaving yet. I've no background music, but if a cappella is OK to you...?”

“A what now?”

“A cappella” means simply means singing without any instruments in the back. All right then...” She thought for a while, then cleared her throat and sang one of Snape's favourites, a song she'd written herself:

“I will fly far above the sky  
with the wings of an eagle  
with the soul of a hawk  
I will soar all the way to moon  
with the strength of your soul  
with the power of your love.”

She lowered her energetic voice to a sultry tone:

“And when you, you are with me  
I will be landing safely to your arms  
And if you, you are with me  
I will rest safely in your arms”

With more energy, she returned to the original level:

“I will fly, fly across the moor  
with the eyes of a falcon   
with the heart of a lion  
I will land safely to your arms  
with all of my power  
and with all of my love.”

And returning to the sultry tone again but lifting the energy levels in the last line:

“And when I, I am with you  
You'll sleep safely in my arms  
And when I, I am with you  
Your soul will rest inside my heart  
And you, you are with me, always with me, inside my heart!”

As she'd sang, the crowd on the platform had paused. Windows of the train crowded with students listening, and people further back had begun coming over to listen to the unexpected song. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, parents and relatives all listening in rapt attention, some with their jaws hanging slack in amazement as she sang.

For a mere moment silence reigned, and then applauds broke out all around them: people were stomping their feet, clapping and cheering. Dudley looked like he was about to faint with all the blood rushing to his face, and he looked incredibly idiotic. Hermione bowed and waved at the applauding crowd.

“There you go,” she said to Dudley, “because I know you'll be a good cousin to Harry, who is my best friend. I really appreciate you supporting him.” Dudley nodded like a bobblehead. Shaking his hand once again and making her excuses about patrolling duties, she rushed inside the train, Harry following close behind.

“Wow, Mione, that was incredible!” Harry exclaimed. “I heard you on Dudley's CD's but that was just... wow. Did you notice that Malfoy, Zabini, Parkinson and Nott were listening from a window?”

“Uhhh, no. But thanks, Harry,” she said with a smile. “I do enjoy singing, but now I really have to patrol. I'm happy if that helped with your cousin.”

“Definitely. See you in a bit. Oh hey, Tonks!” Harry greeted the Auror as he went off in search of an empty compartment.

“Hermione, look over here!” an enthusiastic and perky voice called, and Hermione was nearly blinded by the flash of Colin Creevey's camera. “Thanks! Would you smile for the next? Perhaps look a little bit to the left...” Another flash, then another. 

Behind Colin his younger brother Dennis stared at her. “Holy fuck she's awesome...”

“Dennis Creevey!”, a female voice called from outside.

“Sorry mum!”

“Yooo hooo, Miss Granger!” screeched another female voice, and the blonde curls of Rita Skeeter appeared from the crowd, pushing and shoving people in front of her to get through. “A word or two for the Daily Prophet, please!”

“Awh fuck,” Hermione groaned, and Tonks smirked.

“Go on, I'll get rid of her,” she said and went to block Rita's way. “Miss Skeeter, I'm afraid you cannot enter the train.” Skeeter's protests rang in the corridor as Hermione quickly made her way further into the train.


	26. Chapter 26

It took a ridiculous amount of time to get at least some of the students into their compartments. Finally the Head Boy had to order Hermione to go find a seat and threaten the others with point loss if they kept following her: the crowd blocked the train corridor and the lunch trolley could not pass. Ron had gone ahead, refusing to patrol with her: Hermione finally found him, Harry, Luna and Neville in a compartment. She sighed in relief and sat down. The landscape outside was beautiful, and Hermione felt a moment of relief knowing she was approaching Severus, though she knew they probably wouldn't be able to touch or even kiss during the term. Still, he'd told her he loved her: she would just have to trust that.

“Hello, Hermione,” Luna greeted her in her ethereal tone. 

“Hello, Luna,” Hermione smiled. “Hello, Neville.”

“Hi 'Mione,” Neville greeted her. “We heard you singing in the platform. You have a great voice!”

“Thanks!” she said. “I spent the holiday on tour. I have souvenirs for all of you, but I want to wait till school before I get them from my trunk.” The souvenirs were shrunk, Severus had done that, but Hermione didn't want to explain her friends that: they might have asked who helped her. Ron cheered up at the idea of souvenirs, and suddenly the mood relaxed a bit. 

“Your singing made the Wrackspurts uneasy,” Luna said seriously. “Many of them left when you began to sing, and the rest of them didn't seem to enjoy themselves. It's good that you sing, it'll make people feel much better.”

“That's good to know, Luna,” Hermione said a little uncertainly. 

“I was just telling the guys that Malfoy didn't do his prefect duties,” Ron said quickly, to redirect the conversation away from Wrackspurts and any other non-existent creatures Luna came up with. “That bastard. I saw him at Madam Malkin's during the summer too. He was a right git, told me that we probably had to sell something to afford our robes. Would have Hexed him but Madam Malkin hushed him.”

“I saw him in the prefect carriage earlier,” Hermione said. “He looked very depressed, really.”

“Probably about his dad being in Azkaban,” Neville suggested. 

“Serves them right,” Ron said. “No place better for a Death Eater.”

Just then, a third-year girl, looking very shy and breathless, brought in three rolled-up parchments addressed to Harry, Neville and Hermione, each decorated with a purple ribbon, and left after casting shy glances at both Harry and Hermione. 

“What are those?” Ron asked as they opened their parchments.

“An invitation,” Harry said as he read his. Hermione had already read hers:

'Miss Granger, I would be delighted if you could join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C. Sincerely, Professor H. E. F. Slughorn'

“Who's Professor Slughorn?” Neville asked.

“No idea,” Harry said with a a shrug.

“He's an extra teacher this year. He'll be giving extra lessons in Potions for students he selects himself. He likes, well, he likes to meet people who are famous or who he thinks will become famous, or who have famous connections,” Hermione explained before she could stop herself. Severus had told her, but she couldn't bloody well tell them that part.

“How do you know?” Harry asked.

“Oh... it was in 'Hogwarts : A History',” Hermione mumbled and flushed. 

“Huh. Well, I suppose we'll have to go, won't we?”

“He wants me there because of my parents, doesn't he,” Neville asked sadly. Hermione patted him on the back.

“Or because you fought bravely at the Ministy, Neville. You're a brave Gryffindor, never forget that. So what if you're pants at potions, you have your own talents too.” Neville smiled at her gratefully.

The trip to compartment C wasn't easy: the corridor was packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, and many stopped Hermione on her way, so she sent Harry and Neville ahead, telling them to reserve some food for her as well. She tried to be polite but brief with everyone: it was, after all, part of her upbringing as well as part of stardom: don't be impolite to fans. 

It took quite a while before she finally made it to compartment C, where Professor Slughorn held court. Harry and Neville were already seated, and she also saw Ginny and Blaise Zabini, as well as two others: one she vaguely identified as Cormac McLaggen, but she didn't recognise the last one. As she arrived, Slughorn was talking about Harry's parents when he stopped in the middle of his sentence and jumped up, putting down his lunch, and introduced himself, gushing with excitement

“Why you must certainly be the famous Miss Granger, the new promising singer! I heard you sang at the platform?”

Slughorn was a huge man with a massive belly, silly walrus-like moustache a bald head. He looked like he had a good sense of humour and an even better appetite, but Hermione guessed that under his seemingly harmless exterior he was certainly not an idiot. 

“Ah, yes. Harry's cousin asked for a song,” she managed as Slughorn guided her to take a seat and introduced the rest: the one she didn't recognise was Marcus Belby.

“I must say I was disappointed I missed your performance, but perhaps you will give an encore at the school? Perhaps even at one of my parties. I regularly arrange small supper parties as well as some finer parties with famous and influential guests: all former students of mine, you know. Very useful contacts to make.”

“Ah... I'll have to see. Professor Dumbledore suggested I would preform at school, but I need to discuss it with him further.”

“Yes, yes of course. Professor Dumbledore did tell me you are a promising talent at potions. I do hope you'll attend one of my special lessons! I will be teaching some things that did not fit into Professor Snape's curriculum. The lessons are voluntary, of course, and will not clash with any other lessons.”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Hermione said, “I probably will. I do love to learn!”

“Such excellent attitude! I do remember a former student of mine who also displayed such eagerness for learning, Matthew Foxhole, went to work at the Ministry, one of Minister Scrimegour's assistants these days...” Slughorn launched into a long-winded reminiscence of various former students as time passed on. Hermione listened with half an ear as she pondered the future: would Severus perhaps be insulted if she went to take lessons from Professor Slughorn as well? Would he care? And what about the performances?

Severus had warned her that she would become a bigger target if she drew attention to herself, and judging by the looks that Zabini threw at her, he was right. They weren't angry or aggressive, though. Perhaps... curious? Then again, Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin, and he could probably hide his emotions really well. She'd have to get her parents some protection.

When Slughorn finally let them off, Hermione hurried before Ginny and Harry, who discussed in a low tone. Hermione wanted to give Harry some time with Ginny: she'd seen how he looked at her and knew that he probably liked her more than just a little. She needed to get changed into her robes. After a while Ginny ran after her.

“Mione, wait up!” she called, and Hermione slowed down. “Why didn't you tell any of us about singing?” she asked, sounding hurt.

“Ginny... I'm sorry, at first I didn't want to talk about it because I really didn't think I'd succeed. Viktor suggested I try, and then I did pretty well, and then it just grew from there. And I didn't want to boast, you know.”

“We're your friends,” Ginny said soothingly. “We wouldn't have been jealous!”

“No, you wouldn't have, but Ron would have. He is and you know it.”

“You're right, he is,” Ginny sighed. “He's a bit of a git, really. Don't mind him though. I'm proud to call you my friend, and you being a singer doesn't change that.”

“Thanks, Ginny,” she said with a smile. “I brought you a souvenir from Paris, you know. It's in my trunk along with everyone else's, but once we get settled for tonight...”

Ginny squealed in delight as they made their way to the compartment, followed closely by Harry and Neville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you probably noticed, the fact that Harry wasn't with the Weasleys at Diagon Alley changed the events: he never saw Malfoy clutch his arm, never saw him go to Borgin & Burkes, and thus had no special reason to go spy on him.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing, make no profit from this, and I don't mind when people point out grammatical or factual mistakes. I learn that way, after all. I'm not a native English speaker and I work without a beta.
> 
> Also, Flitwick's choir is movie canon, but I couldn't resist adopting it here.

Hermione felt like she was sitting on burning coal all the way to the castle. She fidgeted nervously until Harry asked her what was troubling her: she was unable to invent an answer better than 'I'm just nervous', when the real answer would have been 'soon I'll see Severus, if only at a distance'. Would he look at her? Show any emotions? Of course he wouldn't, he was a spy in a precarious position, she reminded herself and tried to stop herself from squirming as the carriages seemed to approach the castle at a snail's pace.

The Sorting ceremony or the Hat's song revealed no wonders: just the usual about reuniting against a common enemy. Trelawney had attended the Feast for the first time that any of them could remember, and was looking as owlish as usual. Hagrid came only a few minutes late and waved happily to Harry, Ron and Hermione. And Severus... he was there. Very briefly he met her eyes but his gaze passed on almost immediately, very likely too fast for anyone else to notice, and yet Hermione felt a jolt go through her. 

Alastor 'May-eye' Moody also sat at the High Table, drawing comments and attention. Many had seen his face before, though then it'd been Barty Crouch, Jr. using Polyjuice. Moody gazed intently at the students, his magical eye sweeping the hall and pausing at the Slytherin table more often than not. He also scowled at Severus, who looked like he detested Moody just as much as Moody hated him. The students gossiped and questioned his presence, but it was easy to guess he was in for the Defence-position. 

She ate and pretended to listen to Harry and Ron. She took a moment to observe Ronald: he was shovelling food into his mouth and talking with his mouth full as per usual. Hermione still knew she loved him, but only like a brother, just as much as she adored Harry. They'd been best friends since they were all first-years, and she couldn't see that changing, but Justin had been right: they had nothing in common, and there was nothing like the sweet delight she felt toward Severus... Professor Snape, she'd have to call him, and she'd have to forget how he'd orgasmed against her, how he'd given her the sweet relief, forget his kisses... and stop herself from blushing when she thought of him, she realised, when Harry looked at her and asked her if she was ill.

“No... nothing's wrong.”

After the Feast Dumbledore delivered his usual speech: banned products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Quidditch, and introducing Professor Slughorn as the new extra instructor at Potions. Those who wished to attend his lessons would be invited with a special invitation. Moody was also introduced, and got some uncertain applause from three out of four tables: there were still people who remembered his likeness demonstrating the Unforgivables. The grizzled old Auror waved his hand but didn't stand up to greet the people, unlike Slughorn. 

Finally the Headmaster addressed the crowd seriously, talking about the threat that Voldemort posed. He told them that the castle's defences had been strengthened during the summer and urged them to follow all the restrictions and the curfews, to report anything strange to a member of the staff, and instructed them to remain safe. Finally, though, he sent them to their rooms. Just as she was about to follow Ron and Harry out of the Hall, Professor McGonagall arrived. 

“Miss Granger, the Headmaster requested to have a few words in his office, if you can,” she said.

“Of course, Professor.”

“I will walk you there. Follow me, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said and walked to the other entrance. Ron and Harry looked after her but went toward the Gryffindor tower: both, luckily, probably respected Professor Dumbledore enough not to pry or eavesdrop, though Hermione knew they'd await in the Common Room with a battery of questions. 

Professor McGonagall slowed down so she caught up with her. “I heard you have a fine career at singing, Miss Granger,” she said. 

“Yes, Professor.”

“Albus most likely wishes to speak about it. I also must warn you that Professor Flitwick was more than excited. He probably wants you in his choir, or to use you as a solo singer.”

“Oh... I see.”

“You don't need to say yes to him, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said kindly. “I know how much your academic studies mean to you, but he most likely wants to suggest it. And I, for one, would very much like to hear you sing.”

“I'll think about it, Professor,” she said. “Professor Dumbledore has already asked me to perform for the war effort, and I suspect he wants to discuss the details.”

“I do believe you are right,” Professor McGonagall said as they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. 

“Acid Pops,” McGonagall said to the gargoyle, who allowed them entrance to the moving spiral staircase that lead to the Headmaster's office. Professor Dumbledore was already seated behind his table, Fawkes perched nearby already asleep. Professor Snape was also in, already seated in a chair in the corner. He didn't meet her eyes and his expression was almost blank.

“Welcome, Miss Granger!” Dumbledore greeted her as they entered. “Sherbet Lemon?”

“No thank you, sir,” she declined.

“You then, Minerva?”

“I'll pass, Albus.”

Professor Dumbledore popped one into his mouth and gestured them to take a seat. “Well, Miss Granger, happy to be back?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“And you got along well with Severus during the summer?”

“Yes, sir. He was very polite all the summer,” she replied calmly, though she felt extremely nervous.

“Good, good. Professor Slughorn told us you sang at the platform.”

“Yes, Professor. Harry's cousin is a fan, and he asked me to sing. I thought that if I would, he might treat Harry better at home. Apparently he already did when he found out we're friends and I sent him an autograph.”

“Indeed,” Professor Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I suspected something like that when I visited them this summer.”

“Oh, Harry didn't tell me...”

“I'm sure you had a lot to talk about,” Professor Dumbledore dismissed the matter. “I would like to confirm that you would, indeed, be singing at special school functions. I would also ask if you'd be willing to grant an interview for the Wizarding Wireless Network and The Daily Prophet. I am sure they'll ask for it.”

“I think we can arrange that, although I insist that the reporter for the Daily Prophet will not be Rita Skeeter,” Hermione said. “However... I also have something I would like in return.”

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Professor Dumbledore inquired.

“If performing will put me in danger, I understand and accept it. However, my parents will most likely also be in danger. They're Muggles and can't defend themselves. I would ask that the Order will protect them, and if there's any, even the slightest of indication that they're at risk, I want them moved into a safe house. If you can give me your word that my parents will be protected from Death Eaters, I will perform.”

Dumbledore leaned back and thought for a while, but Minerva was faster. “Of course Miss Granger's parents should be protected, I agree.”

“Very well, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore sighed and leaned forward again. “I give you my word that the Order will protect them.”

“Of course one problem is that I can only sing. I can play a piano and also sing a cappella, but it will limit what I can perform. Most of my songs were designed to be accompanied by a band, and although I can sing some of them without and do some covers for Muggle songs, it won't be the same.”

“Don't worry about that yet, Miss Granger. Professor Flitwick should be able to Charm the instruments to play themselves, if you give him the notes and instruct him, and I also believe there might be some talented young musicians in the school who would be honoured to play with you.”

“Oh, that sounds good. I'll talk to Professor Flitwick then, shall I?”

“Yes, I believe Filius would like to speak with you tomorrow. And if you want any other additional help, feel free to ask myself, Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape for help.” Severus scowled, but Dumbledore paid him no mind. Suddenly, Hermione noticed a small niggling feeling in her head. It was hardly noticeable, but Severus had told her to keep an eye on such things, and she immediately got to her feet and began pacing in a small circle, pretending to stretch her arms and shoulders, looking away from the Headmaster's eyes. The niggling feeling had stopped immediately as she got up. 

“Is something wrong, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, sir, it's just that I've sat all day: first on the train, then in the carriage, then in the Great Hall... all my muscles need stretching,” she lied and kept pacing fast, stretching her back and shoulders like they were numb.

“Oh, I see. Well, I best let you off then. Off to bed with you, Miss Granger, you'll get your timetable and begin your classes tomorrow. Severus, would you escort Miss Granger to Gryffindor Tower, it is past curfew. I need to have a few more words with Minerva.”

“Very well, Albus,” Severus sighed. “Come along, Granger.” His tone was snappish and curt.

After Hermione quickly said good night to the two elder Professors, she followed at Snape's heels out of the tower and down the spinning stairs. He strode fast, his teaching robes billowing in a familiar way. The corridors were empty save portraits that were settling down to sleep. Severus walked briskly ahead until they got to a corridor that had no portraits save one landscape that was currently empty: he looked around them and quickly dragged her into an alcove, casting a few Charms so they wouldn't be found or heard. Then he pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss and wrapped his arms around her.

“I have missed you, little love,” he whispered.

“I missed you terribly, Severus,” she returned, kissing him back, and he peppered her face with tiny kisses. 

“I really should not be doing this,” Severus groaned, “but I watched you with your friends and wanted nothing as much as come to you.”

“I know. I hate not being able to talk all the time,” she sighed.

“Albus tried to use Legilimency on you, then? I gather that little display of yours...?”

“I think so. I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't warned me,” she said. “It stopped though. I don't think he got anything.”

“You need to learn Occlumency. I will ask Albus for a permission to teach you: I will tell him it's for my cover as a spy, so that if you are captured, you will be able to protect the memories of last summer and maintain my cover.”

“Do you think he'll buy it?”

“I think so. He needs his only spy and he knows he is putting you at risk. I really wish you were safer,” he sighed and kissed her on the lips again, caressing her hips. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair and he groaned softly. “You have to go, little love. Your friends will be missing you and we are at risk of being discovered.”

“I know. I love you, Severus. I will see you tomorrow in class?” 

“Yes, although I will have to treat you deplorably. I will hate it, my little love.”

“I know,” she sighed.

“Go sleep, little songbird.”

“Sleep well, Severus.”

He kissed her once more, tasting her mouth fully and then regretfully allowed her to back away before they continued their trek to Gryffindor Tower, keeping a respectable distance between them.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some suggested likes to 'Draco's song' courtesy of Trickster32, used with permission. Everything else still belongs to J. K. Rowling, so I own exactly nothing :)

There was no chance of a proper goodnight kiss by the portrait of the Fat Lady, so they bade good night in strictly professional tones, like one might expect from a teacher and his student. Only their eyes spoke briefly as they met, before Hermione went through the portrait and Severus strode toward the dungeons.

Harry and Ron were expecting her, as were a load of other Gryffindor students. Harry and Ron were obviously curious, but the others swarmed her with questions about singing, performing, her music... she told them all that yes, Professor Dumbledore had requested her presence to discuss the matter and that yes, once they sorted out the background music she'd probably perform a few times. McLaggen asked for a song for that evening but she refused kindly, stating that she was exhausted and needed sleep. 

She hadn't the time to exchange words privately with Harry and Ron, because Lavender and Parvati dragged her away to their room before she had the time. Lavender took her right hand and Parvati her left and off they went. Lavender and Parvati had been best friends since their first year and their families were acquainted: the two shared many interests and spent almost all of their time discussing Divinations, boys or fashion, and doing their hair, make-up and nails. Still, they'd both been members of Dumbledore's Army, and were brave Gryffindors at heart: they'd stood by Harry, and for that, Hermione had to appreciate them, even though she'd always found their gossip and giggling frustrating, especially when she herself wanted to concentrate on her studies. 

Right now, though, Lavender and Parvati wouldn't take no for an answer. “Please, you have to let me do your hair,” Parvati begged. 

“Will you show us your outfits? And can I do some make-up on you, please? Pleasepleaseplease?” Lavender begged, attempting big puppy dog eyes. 

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. The irony of it all: the Gryffindor swot in her frumpy sweaters and standard uniforms was suddenly the idol for the two girls who adored fashion and looks over academics. Still, perhaps she could give them this first evening. 

“Oh, all right,” she chuckled, “just let me take some parcels to Harry, Ron and the others from my trunk. Then I'll show you some of my stuff. I don't have a huge lot with me though.” Entering her dorm she found her trunk by her bed, and let Crookshanks out of his carrier. The half-kneazle was obviously insulted and sauntered to her bed, casting offended glances. Hermione pulled out several packages and her wand, casting an 'Engorgio' until the packages were proper size. She'd bought Belgian chocolates for most of her friends at Gryffindor tower, as well as special gifts for the closest ones, namely Ron, Harry, Ginny, Neville and Luna, and separate boxes of chocolate for some of her favourite Professors. Handing a small box of Guylian's chocolate seashells to Lavender and Parvati — who squealed in delight — she took some of the other boxes and quickly scampered off to deliver them to her housemates. Luna would receive hers tomorrow, as would Professors McGonagall, Vector, Flitwick, Dumbledore and Hagrid.

It was late when Lavender and Parvati finally allowed her to retire. They'd spent ages admiring her hair that had only a few months ago been only known as 'bushy': now it was deigned 'voluminous', 'unique' and 'fabulously soft', and the girls had twisted, curled, uncurled, curled again, braided, Charmed, ruffled and smoothed it until she felt her scalp might fall off. They'd done make-up, admired the few sets of clothes and shoes she'd used in her performances, gossiped, asked a million questions about her staff and were there any good-looking boys there (“not really, I think so?” she'd replied) and she'd heard so much nattering she felt her ears might drop off. But the funny thing was that though she'd never been close Lavender and Parvati, the two girls were friendly and kind, ande she couldn't help but feel closer to them now.

Finally she was able to crawl into her bed, after removing all the hair-care products and make-up. She fell asleep clutching her pillow and sent a sleepy and loving thought to the dungeons, wishing Severus good night. 

And in his private quarters in the dungeons Severus slept restlessly and dreamt of Hermione Granger's kisses.

 

********************************************************

The next morning Hermione met Ron and Harry in the common room before breakfast. As they queued to get through the portrait hole, Ron was gloating about all the free time they'd have. That pissed off Hermione: Ron would again be trying to skive off studying. She confiscated a Fanged  
Frisbee from a fourth-year, only to have Ron snatch it for himself instead of behaving like a proper Prefect. Lavender brushed past them, holding back a giggle, then looking back with a slightly guilty expression on her face, before her expression turned a bit forlorn and she hurried ahead. Hermione frowned: did something trouble Lavender? She'd seemed fine the previous evening.

In the common room Ron had suggested that Hermione should make and perform a nasty song about Malfoy: he and Harry made various suggestions to the lyrics, such as 'I'm the king of the school', 'just wait till I tell my daddy' and 'the world should revolve around me'. Harry suggested some others, such as songs called 'Draco Malfoy is gay' or 'the little blonde ferret'. Hermione chuckled and promptly ignored their suggestions, which were becoming more and more rude every time until she was certain that any teacher would give them detention for using crude words.

Hermione was excited to get to her lessons, but Potions was what she most waited for, if only to see Severus. They wouldn't be able to talk and he'd be forced to say something nasty, but she'd know he didn't really mean it. Hermione admired the ceiling of the Great Hall as she took a small ration of bacon and porridge, skipping the eggs: she'd have to watch her weight for the career. Harry and Ron startled her out of her reverie when they told her that Hagrid would be devastated when none of them would continue at Care of Magical Creatures. It really was quite sad: Hagrid was great, but the subject really wasn't all that interesting or useful, and it was unlikely that anyone would go for a N.E.W.T.

Finally Professor McGonagall arrived with their class schedules. Immediately she made an unexpected announcement: as he'd earlier announced, Professor Snape would only accept students who'd achieved an Outstanding in their O.W.L.'s: however, Professor Slughorn had agreed to tutor those who'd received only an Exceeds Expectations and wished to go for a N.E.W.T. in Potions. His lessons would be arranged at the same time as Snape's lessons, in another dungeon classroom that had been outfitted for Potions. Ron and Harry looked delighted: they'd both wished to become Aurors, and without a N.E.W.T. In Potions the dream would have been dashed. Now they'd be able to study Potions without having to endure Snape.

“Hermione,” Ron hissed. “You should ask McGonagall if you can also attend Slughorn's classes even though you got an O. Then you wouldn't have to suffer Snape!” 

“Hush, Ron,” Hermione hissed and cast a scathing glance at Ron, who looked put off. She'd never skip her lessons with Severus voluntarily, no matter how nasty he'd have to be. Absent-mindedly she heard Harry confess they hadn't bought the supplies, but Professor McGonagall instructed them to borrow the supplies from Slughorn.

“I'm so glad Snape didn't get Defence this year either,” Harry snickered quietly. “He hates Moody, it must be bloody frustrating!”

“And no lessons with the greasy git this year,” Ron added with a note of relief, and Hermione had to bite her tongue to stop herself from lashing out. Finally she received her class schedule: Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and, of course, Potions, as well as Professor Slughorn's extra lessons at Potions in the evening, once a week. She rushed off to her first class, leaving the rest of her friends to sort out their schedules and glad to be rid of their hatred and ridicule toward Severus.

An hour later she met the boys again, waiting for the start of the first Defence-lesson. She'd received a whole load of homework from Runes. Ron wasn't terribly sympathetic: his yawning was downright bloody rude. 

Just then Professor Moody opened the door. The classroom was the way it'd always been: Moody didn't bother decorating. He hobbled to the front and waited impatiently for the class to take their seats. “Constant vigilance!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Constant vigilance is your key to survival against the Dark Arts!”

He didn't bother lecturing for long: soon the whole class was practising jinxes and Shield Charms non-verbally. He drilled them like a sergeant, mercilessly, and it really felt like they'd been in Auror training, especially compared to the previous teachers they'd had. Constantly Moody bellowed his orders, hobbling between the students, berating them for poor behaviour, but he was also very good. Very, very good: when the lesson was over, they were sweating and exhausted, but they'd learned quite a lot. It wasn't unlike their practice sessions at DA, only much more harrowing. 

After the class Harry received an invitation to a 'private lesson' with Dumbledore, and Hermione couldn't help but feel jealous as well as curious: what would the Headmaster teach Harry? She guessed it would be some interesting and advanced defensive magic. They spent the entire break speculating on that, although Hermione struggled to keep her eyes off the High Table: Severus was there, seated next to Slughorn who tried to engage him in a conversation that clearly was of no interest to him, and he looked waspish. She answered the boys in a half absent, half-hearted way.

“Hermione, are you OK?” Harry asked.

“Yeah... I'm fine, Harry,” she sighed. Just then Lavender and Parvati arrived and shoved their way to take seats next to Hermione, asking her to spend another evening with them: Lavender had a received a special make-up issue of 'Witch Weekly' magazine with a series of super special glamour Charms to test out. Hermione suppressed an agonized groan that was forming in her throat and smiled wanly at them.


	29. Chapter 29

Hermione fretted all the way through her Arithmancy lesson, barely able to concentrate on her favourite subject. After the class she set down to help the boys in their homework, but felt anxious and nervous.

“You're fidgeting again, 'Mione,” Harry remarked.

“She has double Potions with Snape,” Ron remarked. “I'd be nervous too. Slughorn didn't seem like a bad sorta bloke, compared.”

“The class will be smaller,” Harry remarked. “Not many people got an O at Potions. Means that Snape will be paying all his attention on you, without me or Ron there to bully.”

“I'll manage,” Hermione said with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“You're braver than me,” Harry said. 

 

************************************************************

“Slow down, 'Mione,” Harry said as they walked to the dungeons. Slughorn's classroom had been established next to Snape's. “No need to rush, we're not late.”

There were very few people in the corridor: four Slytherins including Draco Malfoy, four Ravenclaws and Ernie McMillan from Hufflepuff. 

Snape opened his classroom door. “Inside,” he snapped, “O-level students ONLY,” he added, glaring nastily at Ron and Harry, and strode briskly back in. Some of the students filed in and took their seats: three Ravenclaw students, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy and Hermione. Malfoy and Blaise chose to sit together and the three Ravenclaw students sat in one table: Hermione sat on her own, the odd one out. She felt quite lonely at that moment, though she'd gotten to know Terry Boot and Michael Corner at DA the previous year. After a muffled discussion, Terry Boot moved to sit by her, and she smiled briefly in gratitude. 

It turned out to be a mistake. Severus cast a disgusted and scathing glance at them, and for a mere moment Hermione forgot the summer and how he'd told her he loved her: he was the nasty, sarcastic Potions Master again. After a mere moment she realised that the glance directed at Terry might have something to do with jealousy, her eyes softened and she had to fight the urge to look him in the eyes and smile.

“How... touching,” Professor Snape sneered. “House unity. How very... touching.” He looked at them like they were trash, but nodded briefly to Draco and Blaise. “Now that the worst dunderheads have been weeded out we can get down to serious brewing. Of course, still some of us have more talent than... others...” he said and cast a scathing glance at Hermione and Terry's desk, and Malfoy and Zabini snickered. 

Just then the door opened and Professor Slughorn stuck his bald head in. “Severus,” he called, “I have two students who do not have the book. Do you have any extra copies I could lend to them, and two extra sets of scales?” Severus grumbled but went to a cupboard: he took out two sets of tarnished scales, then pulled out a couple of old and tattered books, took another look at one of them, returned it to the shelf and took out a third copy, which he then gave Slughorn. 

“The students are supposed to buy their own books and scales,” he said in an angry voice. “I expect these shall be returned as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Severus,” Slughorn said jovially. “Thank you!”

“I will expect you to work diligently and to the best of your capabilities, no matter how limited they might be in some cases.” Severus continued as the door closed behind Slughorn. “You have all achieved an 'Outstanding' in your Potions O.W.L.s, and therefore I expect much more of you than the previous years, when everyone was held back by the dunderheads who constantly melted their cauldrons and tried to poison the whole class. The book we will be studying from is Borage's 'Advanced Potion-Making', but not... immediately. We will begin the first stages to the base of Polyjuice Potion. I will write the instructions of the blackboard: we will continue working on it in the following classes. You will each be working on your own potion, not in pairs. After, and only after you have completed these first steps, we will begin with the potion on page eighty-five. Begin!” A few small flicks of his wand produced the written instructions on the blackboard.

Hermione memorised the list of ingredients and went to collect the first ingredients, lacewing flies: she'd brewed Polyjuice Potion in her second year and Severus knew it: he'd told her he brewed the antidote that had removed the fur, the ears and the claws when she'd accidentally used a cat's hair, and confessed that he'd laughed himself sore when he'd seen her the first time. He'd known then that she'd stolen the Boomslang skin from his storages, and Dumbledore had forbidden him to punish them further. 

They all worked in silence: when she'd finished the first stages, Hermione opened her book at the required page. A quick glance to her side revealed that Terry was immersed in his work, and Hermione lifted her eyes to look at the man she loved. 

Severus was marking essays, but once in a while his eyes scanned the classroom, and then he met her eyes. Hermione felt like she could drown in his black eyes: she'd once considered them cold and lifeless, but after living with him for two months and spending hours and hours together, not to mention being his student for five years, she'd gotten to know him a little better, and something in his eyes seemed to soften, though his expression remained cold and stony. After a while he turned his gaze to the rest of the class and in a cold voice said, “When you have finished, begin collecting the ingredients for the next potion. The brew should not take long to complete, you will all have it finished before the end of the class.”

None of them had been expecting that: everyone speeded up their work, and Hermione, Draco and Michael all rushed to the storage to gather the next ingredients. Hermione saw Severus smirk a bit: he'd shocked them on purpose, the bastard. She chopped, diced and sliced as fast as she could, while the others around her did the same: there was no time for fighting or bickering. Snape was really putting them to work. 

She had bottled her sample and was cleaning the table when suddenly one jar on her table fell, splashing pickled Murtlap slices on the floor. She'd no idea how that happened: her hand hadn't even been close to the jar! 

“Miss Granger!” Snape bellowed, and one of the two Ravenclaws in the back squeaked in fright. “Ten points from Gryffindor for wasting ingredients. You will remain after class to clean that up without magic, and settle your detention.” Hermione blushed profusely and Malfoy snickered in the back. 

She turned over her sample and finished cleaning the rest of the table while the others finished their work and filed out. She whispered Terry that he'd let Harry and Ron know where she was and not to wait up.

When the last student had left, Hermione remained behind. Severus flicked his wand at the door, locking and warding it, and when rose up, striding towards her. Another quick flick of his wand vanished the mess off the floor, and he kissed her gently, letting his hands roam in her hair. “Hello, little love,” he murmured.

“You... you caused that mess on purpose!” she gasped.

“That is a serious allegation, Miss Granger. I hope you have evidence to backup your words?” His nose nuzzled her ear, and Hermione groaned as her hands caressed his back and she planted small kisses on his jaw.

“I missed you, little love,” he said. “But the Headmaster has also asked me to teach you Occlumency. I hinted that should you be captured and interrogated, you might very easily give up my status as a spy, and he immediately demanded I teach you,” he said with a crooked little smirk. “We will start tonight at seven: tell your friends I gave you detention for every evening of this week for ruining the Murtlap slices.” He pulled her to him, pressing his nose into her hair and taking a deep breath while his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. 

“They'll believe that,” she said with a small smile. “They actually suggested I should ask to attend Professor Slughorn's classes, so I wouldn't receive all your attention.”

“Oh? Do you not like my attention, little love?” he teased her.

“I enjoy it very much, Professor Snape,” she said, grinding herself against him. She felt his erection press against her thigh, hard and insistent, and pressed herself harder against him: he groaned raggedly. 

“Oh little love,” he whispered, “we cannot do this. Not here, not now. You deserve so much more, little love, but I desire you so desperately.” He pushed her gently away, kissing her lips gently. 

“I don't want anyone else,” she whispered back. “Just you.”

“Little love, little love... I cannot take your innocence. But come back to me at seven o'clock for your detention and Occlumency lesson. Do not tell your friends,” he told her, “Should they ask, you'll be scrubbing cauldrons without magic. Go now, little love.” 

“I love you, Severus. Just one kiss, one kiss more...”


	30. Chapter 30

Hermione met Professor Flitwick after Potions: the little Charms Master had just excused with his third-year Hufflepuffs after a lesson. 

“Professor Flitwick,” she called as she entered the classroom, “is this a bad time?”

“Not at all, Miss Granger!” Flitwick said with enthusiasm. “As a matter of fact, I have been waiting for this discussion ever since I heard of your talent! I was so delighted to hear of a musically talented student yet unknown to me, and one of my favourite students at Charms in decades, I might add! My dear girl, I cannot count the amount of times I have wished you would have been Sorted into Ravenclaw!” the diminutive Professor gushed.

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said with a blush. 

“I understood from Albus that you have agreed to perform here at the school?”

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione replied, “though of course the background music is a bit of a problem. I can perform a few of my own songs a cappella, and I can do some covers on Muggle songs without music, but a lot of my own music is made the be backed by a band. I also perform on stage: I dance, I do pole dancing and so on. And I play the piano and compose.”

“'I'm sure we can arrange something with the music. The school choir has several students who also play instruments and I'm sure most of them would be delighted to play with you. And I can also Charm a few instruments to play themselves with just a few keywords. It is a bonus of being the Charms Master,” he said with a wink and a chuckle.

“That'd be fabulous, sir!”

“I would be delighted to hear some of your music,” Flitwick commented hopefully. 

“I'm sure I can arrange my parents to send a few cassettes or CD's here, but they're Muggle technology and they don't work at Hogwarts. My parents also have a few VHS-tapes of my performances. The mail would be slow since my parents are not magical and they cannot shrink the items so they'd have to post them...”

“Seeing a concert would be splendid. I will discuss the matter with the Headmaster and see if someone might pick them up from your parents? I can arrange to view them outside Hogwarts.”

“Oh, that would work!” Hermione said. “I can owl them beforehand and tell them when to expect a visitor.”

“Lovely. I will talk to Albus tonight,” Flitwick promised, “and I'll let you know after your next Charms-class. Tomorrow, isn't it?”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

“Splendid! Now, have you sang in a choir?”

“No, Professor. I started singing at a very early age but I had a private vocal coach for many years. He trained me the year around until I came to Hogwarts, and after that during the summers until I made a breakthrough.”

“A breakthrough?” Flitwick inquired, obviously confused.

“It's a Muggle term, sir, means that you make something successful enough to catch notice. In my case I made a recording deal.”

“I see. I understand you sing modern music?”

“Yes, sir, but I have a classical training. I'm not a completely qualified opera singer, I really doubt I would qualify to that level, but I do enjoy singing opera as well.”

“Why Miss Granger, you are a treasure indeed!” Professor Flitwick gushed. “I do love opera myself. Do you have any favourite arias?”

“Well, it's a bit unconventional, but I like to sing Verdi's 'Je crois entendre encore' from 'Les pêcheurs de perles'. I know it's meant for a tenor, but I like doing a female cover,” she admitted. 

“I would love to hear that,” Flitwick suggested hopefully. “Perhaps you'd perform it one day, if I can Charm a few instruments to back your song? As far as I know there is at least one student who plays the violin, but in general, classical instruments are rarer than the modern ones, like drums or guitars. I believe there actually might be a girl in Hufflepuff who plays the cello, but I have to make sure...” the Professor gushed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Miss Granger, would you come to the choir practice on Saturday? We practice from three o'clock for approximately two hours. Your talents are too great to waste just as a chorus singer, just between us of course, but I would be delighted if you would sing a solo sometimes, and I'm sure the others would love to meet and talk with you about music,” he added. 

“I'll be there, Professor,” Hermione said with a smile. “I'd be delighted to meet them and honoured to be invited along. Oh, before I go...” she rummaged a box of chocolate seashells from her book bag, “I brought these for you from France. They're Belgian chocolates, and Belgian chocolate is famous in the Muggle world.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger!” Professor Flitwick said with a wide smile. “How very thoughtful of you. Now, I'll be off to supper, and I will see you tomorrow after class about the music. Have a good evening, Miss Granger!”

“Thank you, Professor, you too!” she said, exiting the classroom and headed toward the Gryffindor tower to drop off most of the heavy books before heading down to supper. Then she'd be able to meet Severus for her first lesson at Occlumency.

 

**************************************************************

 

“Why were you in the Charms classroom, 'Mione?” Ron asked as she took her seat next to Harry at the Great Hall and served herself some food. 

“How'd you know I was in the Charms classroom?” she asked.

“We looked for you on the map,” Ron said. “We were waiting for you. Could have used your help with the homework,” he added.

“Oh, I see. I was meeting Professor Flitwick about the background music for my performances, and he asked me to come to the choir practice next Saturday.”

“Sounds boring,” Ron whined. 

“It's not,” Hermione said. “For me music is much less boring than Quidditch.”

“Weird,” Ron said.

“How'd the Potions lesson go?” Hermione asked to keep the peace. “Was Professor Slughorn nice?”

“Mnnuuum brmtff thmmmf schnpf,” Ron muttered.

“Do not speak with your mouth full, Ronald,” Hermione admonished him, “Nobody wants to see your supper.” Ron flushed, swallowed and finally said, “much better than Snape.”

“How so?” Hermione asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“He didn't shout or berate. Didn't deduct any points either, although he wasn't terribly impressed with us,” Harry said. “We pretty much botched our potions. I think he was disappointed in me,” Harry said, looking a bit dejected. “He told me on the train that my mother used to be one of his favourite students, but apparently I don't have the knack.”

“Don't worry, Harry, you're the best at Defence,” Hermione placated him.

“I guess,” Harry said, cheering up a bit. “And Mad-eye is a great teacher. I wish we'd had someone like him before!” Ron nodded enthusiastically while shoving an entire banger into his mouth. “How was Snape?” Harry asked.

“The usual,” Hermione shrugged. “He told us he expects more of us than before, and we had to prepare the first stages to the base of Polyjuice Potion as well as brew another, easier potion, except that he told us about the latter one when lesson was well underway, and told us we best have that one finished before the class ended.”

“Damn!” Harry cursed, “Sounds like the greasy git was in a right mood. Did everyone make it?”

“Yes, although many had to rush a bit. I think he intends to make us work really hard at N.E.W.T.-level.”

“Rather you than us, 'Mione,” Ron said, “Rather you than us.”

Hermione smiled and took a bite of her food. “Anyway, I have detention with him after supper,” she added.

“What? Why?” Harry asked loudly, making several other Gryffindors look at them curiously.

“Hush, Harry,” Hermione shushed her friend. “I accidentally dropped a jar of pickled Murtlap slices as I cleaned up my table. He had me clean them up without magic and then told me I'd be scrubbing cauldrons every evening this week.”

“That's just rotten!” Ron said indignantly. 

“It was my mistake,” Hermione lied. “I was really busy...”

“Snape is nasty piece of work,” Harry hissed, casting a scathing glance toward the Potions Master seated at the High Table. Hermione tried not to look out of fear of staring and blushing like a complete berk. “Bet he's bullying you more now that he can't bully me or Ron.”


	31. Chapter 31

All through the supper she kept an eye on Severus, who didn't linger at the table: he didn't eat well, she thought, not compared to how well he'd eaten during the weeks they'd spent together during the summer. He'd eaten healthy portions, but now his appetite didn't appear to be too good. It might have been the school food, she gathered: the house-elves were talented but the food was a bit greasy and unhealthy compared to what they'd eaten during the summer. Bangers, fried eggs and mash might gain approval from Ron Weasley, but Severus seemed preferential to a good medium-rare steak, perhaps in red wine sauce. 

She lingered at the table a bit, not wanting to rush after him: her 'detention' was scheduled for a bit later anyway. Finally she took a look at her wrist watch — electronic watches didn't usually work here, but for some reason her old battery-operated watch seemed to function — sighed and slipped off from her seat.

“Time for my detention,” she said to Ron and Harry, making a face that she hoped would allay distaste instead of the nervous anticipation she felt. The boys waved her off, still partially immersed in talks about the up and coming Quidditch trials. 

“Poor 'Mione,” she heard Harry say, “The first day of lessons and she gets detention, and she never gets detention! Snape is a right bloody git. ”

She made her way toward the dungeons, nervous anticipation fluttering in her belly, and finally knocked on the door of the Potions classroom at exactly seven o'clock. “Enter,” he heard Severus call, and she did. He was not alone: Professor Slughorn was there, and Severus seemed more than a little irritated.

“I'm here for my detention, Professor Snape,” she said humbly.

“Granger. You will find cauldrons to scrub over there. The second-years made quite a mess today. You are to use no magic!” he sneered and pointed toward the pile of cauldrons by the sink 

“Yes, sir,” she replied, walked to the cauldrons and took up the scrubbing brush, hoping that Slughorn would leave. 

“Detention on the first day, Severus? From what I heard from Albus and young Harry, Miss Granger is one of the most talented students in this school. Really, I must say...”

“She recklessly spilled a whole jar of pickled Murtlap slices. How I choose to punish my students is my business, Horace. Now, if you will excuse me, I have papers to grade,” Professor Snape said sternly. 

“Oh... well, of course...” Professor Slughorn said, looking at Hermione apologetically. “Good day, Miss Granger, I hope we will meet at our lesson on Friday at four o'clock?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a smile.

“Get on with the scrubbing, Granger!” Severus snapped, and Hermione turned back to the cauldron as Slughorn exited the classroom. Once he was outside, Severus took his wand and flicked it at the door, locking it and casting Silencing Charms.

“Come here, little love,” he whispered to her, and a quick wandless spell from him cleaned and dried her hands. Quickly Hermione walked to him and he pulled her against his chest, buried his nose into her unruly curls and sighed deeply. “We need to begin your training at Occlumency.”

“I hope this wasn't the way you trained Harry,” she smirked, and Severus released her with a vicious and insulted scowl. “I was joking, Severus,” she placated him. 

“Come,” he said and went ahead to a door which lead to his office. The office was dark and shadowy, lit with only a few candles, and the shelves held both interesting and creepy specimens of creatures and plants suspended in various liquids and solutions. A Pensieve sat on the desk: she'd never seen one but Harry had described Dumbledore's Pensieve to her. 

“I do hope you will turn up more proficient than Potter,” Severus said, gesturing for her to take a seat. He himself leant against his table, crossing his feet at the ankles. “The idiot boy never even tried to clear his mind and focus.”

“He told us that you stopped giving him lessons,” she said. “He said you thought he was already good enough, but I didn't believe him.”

“The boy did not tell you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Tell us what?”

“I caught the brat as he was snooping in my Pensieve,” Severus told her. 

“He what?!” Hermione asked, outraged.

Severus nodded. “I pulled him out. I had removed some of my more personal memories to a Pensieve, like I have now...” he said, gesturing to the desk. “I do have things I like to keep private. Potter,” he spat the name out like a curse, “does not respect such things as privacy. I removed the memories because sometimes it happens that the person practising Occlumency breaks though the defences of the Legilimens and sees some of their more private and innermost memories and thougts”

Hermione nodded while Severus looked at her intently. For a while she felt like he didn't trust her, but she reminded herself that it wouldn't be easy for her, either, to have him see everything inside her mind, and so she gave him a tentative smile and a nod. It seemed like the correct reaction, for Severus' eyes seemed to soften and the corner of his lips lifted a bit.

“Do you know the basic meaning of Occlumency?” Severus asked. 

“Yes. Harry told me some of the things you told him, though he's really bad at remembering things, and I sought out a book about it from the library...”

“Of course you did,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Little sweet know-it-all. My main goal is to teach you to protect your mind from Albus. The Dark Lord is much more powerful Legilimens than he is, but I am better at Occlumency than either of them. It is unlikely I can teach you to be strong enough to fully protect your mind if the Dark Lord ever catches you, but if you concentrate and practise, you should be proficient enough to resist the intrusions from Albus and other weaker Legilemens, and to resist the Dark Lord for a little while. Of course, you need to concentrate.” He gave her a stern look worthy of Professor Snape, the strict teacher who'd taught her for five whole years, a man who wasn't to trifle with.

“Yes, sir,” she replied automatically, and Severus truly smiled at her, clearly amused. 

“Good. Stand up, little love. Now, usually eye contact is necessary in Legilimency. I allowed Potter to use his wand to repel me from his mind, but I think you ought to be intelligent enough to do it without one. I want you to clear your mind of all emotion. Clear them all out, focus on it. I will attempt to break into your mind. Now... one — two — three... Legilimens!”

Suddenly memories were flashing past her. Her first ballet lesson when she was five years old... the fear she felt at the first concert... Severus in the bathtub, shaking with the Cruciatus... she tried to focus and push him out... Suddenly she found herself falling, before Severus caught her mid-fall. 

“Definitely more sense and talent than Potter,” he said as he held her while helping her to sit into her chair. “You definitely tried to push me away and I could see you tried to clear your mind, but you definitely need to practise. Are you ready to try again?”

She nodded and stood back up. Severus faced her and cast the spell again, staring intently into her eyes. “One — two — three... Legilimens!”

Her excitement when she first visited a public library... she was six and her father taught her how to swim in the ocean in France while her mother clapped and cheered... she was eleven and stared at Professor McGonagall in wonder as the old witch changed a teaspoon into a cup and levitated the whole tea tray... and she pushed again, trying to clear the memories away, and once again found herself in his arms, panting in exhaustion. 

“Better, much better. I could sense you were controlling your emotions and I could feel you pushing me stronger than before. You really have talent, little love.”

“I still didn't get it right,” she grieved.

“You are still doing much better than Potter ever did,” he comforted her. “I tried to teach him again and again, and you have already achieved far better results than he did in weeks of lessons. Do you think you can try again?”

“Can I rest, just for a little while?”

“Of course, little love,” he replied, holding her close to his chest. 

They remained like that for several minutes, until Hermione reluctantly straightened her spine. “I think I'm better now,” she said. “I think I could try again.”

“Fine, just one more and then we shall end for the day,” Severus replied and lifted his wand. “Ready?” She nodded, and Severus said, “One — two — three... Legilimens!”

There was a moment of pure and white nothing, and then... Hermione pouted when she was told she had to return the books to the library... the time she first saw Professor Dumbledore and compared him to Gandalf the Grey from Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings'... Severus kissing her nipple, his fingers dancing on her clitoris, the orgasm that struck her, and the sound of his rapid breath as he neared his crest... Hermione tried to push him away again, but faltered, and once again she was in his arms, but this time he was panting hoarsely, his erection obvious through his slacks. 

“Oh Hermione... oh little love...” he panted, his hand cupping her breast through her blouse. He kissed her lips frantically, pulling her closer with his other arm, and Hermione slipped her hand to his crotch, fondling him through the fabric, and he groaned. 

He pushed her to sit on his desk and used his hand to push her panties to the side, his fingers finding and caressing her clitoris, while Hermione opened the buttons of his slacks and pushed her hand inside to fondle his erection. His breath escaped in a large huff and he moaned, whimpering in pleasure. His jaw hung slack and his eyes closed as she gingerly and carefully caressed his length. It didn't take him long: his words were incoherent as he dissolved to his pleasure, his hips jerking a few times, his whole body shuddering helplessly against her and his cock twitched and pulsed as his seed sprang forth. He tensed for a little and then went almost completely slack as he panted. 

Hermione smiled in delight and continued to gently caress his cock until he stilled her hand. “Oh Hermione, little love, you wonderful, amazing creature...”he said, opening his eyes. His hands shook as he reached for his wand and siphoned away his sperm from her hands. His eyes were smouldering as he looked at her, and then he knelt down in front of her and pushed his head between her legs, licking her tenderly.

Hermione moaned in pleasure and leaned back on the table. It felt so outrageously good, better than anything before. Severus tested different ways of pleasing her with his fingers and his tongue: he was a quick study. His breath scorched her as she climbed the peak until she crashed over the cliff, tumbling down into a pool of pleasure. 

Severus slowed the caresses on her clitoris and her lips and then leaned over her, his newly-formed erection digging into her thigh. Hermione could taste herself on his tongue and lips as they kissed tenderly. 

“I want you so much, Severus,” she whispered, “I want you inside me.”

“Little love, I want you so much, but we cannot... I cannot...” he moaned, his body rocking against hers, his base of cock brushing against her soaking wet core, squeezing between their bodies. They panted in unison, rocking sweetly, and he wasn't sure if he had enough in him to come again until his orgasm struck him. There was less seed this time, but the pleasure stole the breath from his lungs and every shred of thought from his mind until he lay on top of her on the desk, his slacks hanging halfway down his feet, their lips swollen from the kisses, skin flushed and their hair wild, their breath mingling as they languidly kissed.

It took them a good ten minutes of recovery to get enough energy to straighten out their outfits. Severus helped her smooth out her hair a bit with a spell, and they splashed some cold water on their faces to get rid of the flush on their cheeks.

“Little love,” he whispered to her. “I need you to practise Occlumency. Try to clear your mind, empty it of all emotion... Discipline your mind.”

“Even of you?” she asked with a smile. “Impossible!”

“Sweet girl,” he chuckled. “Even thoughts of me. Especially those. It is vital Albus does not suspect anything like... what just happened. It is imperative. Getting caught would not just end our careers in this school, little love. It also might mean my life at the hands of the Dark Lord, Hermione.”

“I know, I'll do my best. I have an idea I want to try, actually.”

“Hermione Granger has an idea? How extraordinary,” he teased her gently.

“Behave,” she said. “I'll test it tomorrow?”

“Yes, do,” he told her. “Now you should head to your tower, little Gryffindor princess. You must have a lot of homework.”

“Says the Professor who set a foot of parchment for the next essay,” she told him.

“You'll return at least a foot and a half,” he told her. “I know you, little know-it-all.”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” she replied with a kiss. “What about those cauldrons?”

“I'll clean them with a spell,” he said gently, “off you go, little love. We cannot afford anyone getting suspicious.”

“I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Hermione,” he told her, his eyes gentle and warm.


	32. Interludes and Intermissions IV

“WHAAAAAAT?!”

Rita Skeeter's voice echoed through the corridors of The Daily Prophet. Several secretaries and photographers cringed and one flighty junior reporter fled to the nearest loo. 

Barnabas Cuffe, the editor-in-chief of 'The Daily Prophet', had just delivered Rita Skeeter the unwelcome news that she would not be allowed to interview the new and rising musical star of the wizarding world. This brassed Rita Skeeter off: she was the gossip queen, the person who could always ask the juiciest questions and get the best answers. And now she'd been forbidden to talk to the bratty teenage star.

“I almost reached her at King's Cross,” Rita screeched. “Why wouldn't I be allowed to...?!”

“Rita,” Barnabas said calmly, “I will do the interview myself. It seems that you have, at one point, insulted the star personally.”

“I never!” Rita defended herself. “I've never had even heard of this... Mione G before!”

“It appears that you did,” Barnabas calmly said. “Her real name is Hermione Granger, and two years ago you slandered her name in a scandal... a love triangle, I believe, between her, Viktor Krum and Harry Potter during the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Hermio... oh Merlin!” Rita groaned, slouching back into her seat before she sprang back on her feet and began to pace restlessly in paper-filled office. She absent-mindedly ducked a paper missive that zipped through the air and landed on Cuffe's desk. 

“I'll talk to her, Barny, don't you worry,” Rita said, “She and I have managed to collaborate before. Why, even last year...” she suppressed the groan as she remembered the nasty words she'd said to her. “Oh Merlin... I'll talk to her. I'll send her a nice owl...”

“As you wish, Rita,” Barnabas said, “but as for now, I will do the first interview. She will be an influential icon among the younger population, I believe. It is important to have a high-ranking person to interview her.”

“I AM A HIGH-RANKING PERSON!” Rita howled, and the junior reporter barricaded the door of the loo with a seat he ripped off the floor. 

 

****************************************************** 

 

“That was the singing sorceress Celestina Warbeck and her new hit 'Baby I love your big wand'. This is 'The Witching Hour' and I'm Glenda Chittock, your hostess, introducing wonderful music and musical news from all over the wizarding world.”

“We have great news for music lovers tonight! Kirley Duke, the lead guitarist from the ever popular 'Weird Sisters' has announced he and his wife Moira are expecting their first-born in April. Congratulations from all of us at the Wizarding Wireless Network for the expectant parents! We will be hearing the new song 'Explosive Cauldon cakes' from The Weird Sisters later this evening.”

“A new singing star has been discovered among the wizarding population in Britain: the young Muggle-born star called 'Mione G' has made herself quite famous among the Muggles for the past couple of years. She toured last summer in the Muggle world, giving performances in England, Wales and Ireland as well as France, Germany and Italy. The young and rising star, who is currently a sixth-year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, gave an impromptu performance of one of her own songs at platform nine and three-quarters just before Hogwarts Express departed from King's Cross a couple of days ago. Albus Dubledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwart, has commented that the singing star Mione G has promised to perform at the school, and she will be giving us an interview on Thursday next week on this very programme. Join us then to learn more about this new and exciting teenage musical talent!”

“In other news, members of the popular band from the 60's, The Mugwumps, have published a joint book of memoirs from their tours and journeys around the world. The book contains some very interesting insights into the musical scene of the era, as well as over 100 photographs.”

“And now we will hear a song from the new artist Mione G called 'Love me like you did yesterday'.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon Severus always seemed a bit obsessive about Lily. Therefore I've written him to be perhaps a tad obsessive and possessive in addition to being uncertain and insecure. Someone will complain that he's too fluffy with Mione, but then again, he wasn't depicted in canon as "being actively in love": the POV-character is one person, Harry, who views him with a completely biased and immature opinion. The entire canon narrative is written from an unreliable POV-perspective.

Severus slept well that night. Perhaps the orgasms he'd received and given sent the usual nightmares away, perhaps just the pleasure of knowing that for the first time in his life there was a young woman who wanted him and whom he desired in return was sufficient to drive away the memories of torture he'd both given and received at the dark revels of the Dark Lord. Years of watching people suffer and die, killing people with nasty hexes, receiving Cruciatus, being physically kicked, punched, being reviled and detested by women, his colleagues, even Lily when he'd shown her anything but brotherly interest and friendship... all wiped away by an astounding young woman with a wild mop of a hair and the most beautiful, sparkling brown eyes filled with passion and kindness.

He retired early, reminding himself of the sweetness of tasting her on his tongue, feeling her hand on the place nobody had ever touched him before, and he woke up rested and content. 

The contentment soon driven away by the reality of a long list of potions requested by Poppy for the infirmary, a scheduled staff meeting, and the knowledge that he'd be forced to teach the second-year Gryffindor-Slytherin- class. Nicks and Donahue weren't quite as bad as Longbottom as far as ruined potions and exploded and melted cauldrons went, but they had all the Gryffindor bravado and even less sense of Fred and George Weasley. After the first lesson Gryffindor was down sixty points and Severus downed a vial of potion for his headache. 

If it wouldn't have been one of his few chances of seeing Hermione during the day, he would have skipped breakfast. He picked on his toast and drank a cup of tea, trying to look at Hermione as much as he could, and disguised his staring with malicious sneers and narrowed eyes that spoke of how much he detested the Gryffindor House.

He did, of course, except for one lovely young girl who'd stolen his heart.

Potter, of course, decided that the sneering and malicious gazing was directed at him, and reacted by squaring his shoulders, stiffening his posture and hissing in fury with Weasley and Hermione. So like Potter: always presuming the entire world revolved around him. How much he'd despise him if he only knew that Hermione had allowed him to... 

His erection made itself known, and he had to bat down the thoughts violently. The outrage followed: Weasley was obviously trying to make moves on Hermione. She seemed to ignore him, but Weasley wasn't the only one who'd been staring at her with longing and admiring eyes. The majority of the anger in his eyes was directed at them, those boys who dared to stare at Hermione. 

She could be his, couldn't she? She'd chosen to kiss him only last night, kissed, caressed, allowed him to touch her in a way that none had ever touched her...

Had they?

No, they couldn't have. 

Not that they wouldn't want to. Little disgusting bastards: leering at her, staring at her like she was a piece of meat for the taking, dreaming their disgusting little dreams of the lovely young woman who'd told him she loved him. She'd told him: the greasy dungeon bat, Snivellus, the man whom no other woman had ever desired. And she'd touched him so sweetly: the popular, rich and talented woman with the voice of an angel and the body of a goddess. 

She had to be his. She had to. He couldn't live if she wasn't his. Hermione Granger had to be his, with him, his love, his lover. 

 

**************************************************************

 

The staff meeting was painful. The students never knew how much their teachers gossiped about them, and the 'Golden Trio' was a frequent source of speculation and rumour. 

It began with Flitwick, who boasted that he'd managed to have Granger perform with his choir. She'd promised to procure him some of her music and a video of her performance: Severus had seen one, the recording company sold professional tapes of her concerts, and there'd been one made of the London concert, he later heard. He hadn't even known they'd filmed it, but Hermione had told him the cameras were in the audience section, while he'd stayed on the side, hidden from the public view. 

The topic of Granger started the infernal gossip of relationships, and more particularly, whom would she end up with. While no actual bets were made, Ronald Weasley held the most votes, though there were some other contenders whom the others guessed might catch her eye. Potter, too, received a few speculations, though he'd shown interest to Cho Chang the previous year. Nobody asked Severus for his opinion: they presumed he wouldn't have been interested, and if asked, he'd have told them to shove off with their idiotic speculation about the relationships between stupid children.

He wouldn't have been interested, of course, hadn't the topic of the gossip been his Hermione, the girl who only last night had writhed under the torture of his lips, his teeth and his tongue, the girl whose body he'd explored and who'd pulled out his pleasure... again he fought to contain the desperate surges of arousal at the mere thought of her. 

His colleagues who speculated on her future, who thought she could ever love someone like Ronald Weasley or the Potter brat, would never guess that their reviled colleague, the most unpopular teacher in the school, was in her heart and held her in his heart in return. He schooled his face into an impassive mask of indifference and boredom, finally allowing disgust to show. They'd interpret it as his usual disgust toward the students and the staff alike.

Gods how he loved her, how he wanted her. He'd probably die in this war: both Albus and the Dark Lord would gladly toss his life away if it gave them the advantage. Couldn't he have Hermione, to have and to hold, if only for a little while?

She had to be his. Had to be. 

**************************************************************

Finally, time for Hermione's 'detention' came. He'd waited the whole day for this moment, when Hermione walked into his classroom and he could lock the doors and take her into his arms.

She'd progressed and practised: it didn't take him a lot of time to find her emotions and thoughts, to access her memories that taught him many things about her, but it was there: she was learning and learning fast. He learned to stand close enough to catch her should she fall, and finally he had the possibility to hold her close and smell the sweet scent of her hair and skin. He knew his Amortentia would smell of her: it'd shocked him immensely when he'd realised that he hadn't thought of Lily for a long time. Would his Patronus have changed as well? The thought sent a jolt through him: he could have used the Patronus depicting Lily to prove Albus his loyalty, and would everyone know if he'd one day have to conjure his Patronus and it'd be the same as Hermione's? 

He offered her tea to hide his uneasy thoughts, and they drank, talking silently. He fought against the urge to capture her into his arms and take her - take her - take her, make her his own.

“Tell me about yourself,” she asked, and he couldn't deny her anything she wanted, could he?

“It is of little interest, little love,” he told her. “It would bore you.”

“It wouldn't. Please?” she asked, and he could do nothing but tell her.

“I was born in a small row house at Spinner's End in Manchester. My mother was a pure-blood witch called Eileen Prince, and my father was a Muggle. He was a despicable man: he was an abusive alcoholic, and he regularly took out his temper on me and my mam,” he said, accidentally slipping the word in the northern colloquial, fighting down the instinctual use of the lilt he'd schooled himself out of in his early years at Hogwarts, to fit in better with the pure-blood circles. 

“My family was very poor, and we had barely enough to eat, especially after my father lost his job at the local factory where he worked. Sometimes not enough to eat, when he used the money for his drinks. He broke my mother's wand and hurt her. He despised magic and me, when he learned I was a wizard.”

Her eyes held so much sympathy, and he had to fight down the urge to snap at her, to rage that he'd never wanted her pity, that he hated pity... but the feeling fled when she put down her cup and came to him, crawled into his arms and began to kiss him, nibbling his lower lip like she often nibbled her own. He moaned and his cock hardened in mere moments: his hands roamed on her beautiful body and his lips drank her in.

They were so close to succumbing to their desire again: he fought it back with the walls of his Occlumency, letting the kisses slowly simmer down from passionate fire to gentle caress.

Soon they tested her again. She improved every time, learning to hide her emotions and memories by pushing them back. There would be a long way to go before she'd learn to form and show false memories like he did or hold up barriers against a strong Legilimens, but she'd get there, he was sure of it.

Hermione Granger was a true genius in every way.

When she finally had to leave, he pulled up Poppy's list of for the infirmary. Among them was the usual monthly Contraceptive Potion Poppy gave to the students who requested it. He took out a cauldron for it and began to brew. He'd set a couple of doses aside for... for just in case.


	34. Chapter 34

Hermione hummed as she made her way to Gryffindor tower. She felt restless: Severus had pulled back just when things had started to get passionate. Hermione felt hot and bothered... horny, really. The bloody hormones, she knew. 

In a way the thought of loosing her virginity to Severus felt both compelling and frightening. She'd heard the first time might hurt, but she'd also read that it could be very pleasant after the first time. It really bothered her that she could read about it but that the reading might not really prepare her for the real experience.

Was she prepared to be with him like that? Her body sang a resounding 'yes' every time he touched her like that. He was much older than she was and he probably had a lot of experience with other women. Or at least some women, she thought after a while. Right? Did it bother her, then? Should it? Maybe it did, she thought, as a stab of jealousy struck through her. Wasn't it a good thing, though, that he'd know what he was doing? Did the experience outweigh the jealousy she'd feel? Had he been in love? Could have have been actually married at some point? Perhaps he even had a child? By Merlin, she'd never even asked!

Hermione groaned as she slumped into a comfortable chair in the common room, which was almost empty, save for Harry, Ron, Neville and a few younger years who were working in another corner. Neville was by the fireplace, while Harry was writing an essay on the floor next to Ron: they both looked up as she arrived. Ron was munching on a chocolate frog and he'd left a brown stain on his parchment: he had chocolate on his lips as well, and Hermione cringed: he boy really couldn't eat neatly. Disgusting. She took out her parchment, quill and the two books she'd need for the essay. She'd need one more from the library. 

“Bad detention, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“No, just tired.”

“Cauldrons again?”

“Yes.”

Harry shuddered. “Snape's such a nasty git. And the bastard... he got Sirius killed. I wish Dumbledore would get rid of him.”

“Harry,” Hermione groaned in exasperation, “Snape didn't get Sirius killed, you know that. Bellatrix LeStrange killed him, not Snape.”

“He goaded and bullied Sirius until he left the house, you know that!” Harry hissed, raising his voice a bit. 

“Sirius annoyed him just the same, always calling him names,” Hermione countered, getting angrier by the minute. “And he did alert the Order. We'd probably all be dead if it weren't for him.” It was getting difficult to keep her voice low enough not to be overheard. 

“He deserved those names and more!” Harry snapped. “He's evil and he probably just delayed calling for help on purpose. He's a Death Eater, Hermione! Why are you always defending him?!”

“Keep it down, Harry!” Hermione hissed and pointed at the younger students in the other corner, “They don't need to hear this. Anyway, Snape's a spy, Harry, you know that. He has to seem like he works for You-Know-Who. If you can't trust him otherwise, trust Dumbledore. Dumbledore trusts Snape and therefore so should you.”

“Forget it, Hermione,” Ron said. “Dumbledore's wrong about him, you'll see. He's nothing but a disgusting and creepy old...”

“I've had enough of you!” Hermione snapped loudly and got up. “I'm going to the library.” Ron and Harry were left behind, looking confused. Hermione felt a bit bad, but there was a limit on how much slander against Severus she could take right now. The library would be quiet, although it would close soon. She could pick up an extra book for the Charms essay anyway, and perhaps finish in her room after curfew. 

She arrived into the library to find Parvati and Lavender there. The two were in the Divinations section as usual, but they were actually sitting on the floor, backs against a shelf, and Lavender was sobbing against Parvati's shoulder. She'd been a bit withdrawn yesterday, but right now she was actually crying. Hermione had never seen her cry before: she was usually so happy and bubbly. 

“Lavender, is everything all right?” she asked.

“I... no, no, everything is just... fine,” Lavender sobbed. 

Hermione looked at her sceptically. “You don't seem fine,” she said.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Lavender wailed, jumped up and fled. Hermione was left behind with Parvati, confused and sad. Lavender had been really nice to her for the last few days, and even if she was a bit of an air-head with her hair-dos, make-up and Divinations, it was confusing and sad to see her so distraught.

“Parvati, is something wrong? Can I help her?” Hermione asked.

Parvati looked at her for a while, seeming to debate internally. Finally she sighed. “I... well, can you keep this a secret? You won't tell her I told you?”

“I promise,” Hermione said. 

“Lav fancies Ron Weasley,” Parvati sighed. “She really, really likes him, I mean. She had a thing for him last year... at those DA-meetings, you know... but she knows you fancy him too. She knows you've fancied him for ages, and she doesn't want to, you know... Lav really likes you and she knows that she probably she doesn't have a chance with, you know, you being so famous and popular. But she really, really fancies him,” Parvati concluded. 

“Oh, I see,” Hermione managed, the light dawning.

“Please, just don't tell her I said anything,” Parvati pleaded. “and please don't be angry at her. She'd hate me if she knew I told you, she'd hate me if you liked her less. She can't help it... she made up their star charts and everything, and they really seemed to match, you know.”

“Parvati, I'm going to talk to her now. But before I go, I'll tell you one thing. I don't fancy Ron.” Parvati's eyes grew wider at the admission. “I used to like him, but I spoke with a friend and he pointed out how different Ron and I really are. He was right, too. So, I'm going to talk to Lavender. Can you tell me where she went and wait a bit before you come over? I think we'll need a bit of time to talk.”

Parvati nodded enthusiastically. “She probably went to have a bath,” she said. “She does that when she's sad. Bubble bath and primping.”

“Good. If you can wait for us in the common room? Oh... could you do me a favour and pick up a book for me?” She scribbled down the name of the book and Parvati nodded with a smile, waving as Hermione went after Lavender.

The common room was getting more crowded, with people hanging about and doing their homework, but Hermione only greeted the people who greeted her and didn't linger. Lavender wasn't in the bedroom, but the door to the bathroom was locked. Hermione knocked. “Lavender?” she asked.

“I'm in the bath,” she replied with a tremor in her voice, “Is it urgent?”

“Yes, I need to talk to you.”

“Fine,” Lavender replied and the lock opened. Lavender was in the tub, surrounded by a mount of bubbles, her face covered in creamy mask, and she was rubbing something into her skin.

“Lav, I think there's something you ought to know,” Hermione said, cursing the fact that she'd never really had any close female friends before. How'd one usually approach these things? She decided to use the Gryffindor bluntness. “I don't fancy Ron.”

“You.. what?” Lavender blurted out. “How did you even... oh, Merlin, 'Vati told you! Oh Merlin, how could she...! But you don't...?”

“Not like that,” she replied. “I used to fancy him, but we're just too different, you know? I love books and learning, I like quiet evenings and my music. Ronald likes Quidditch and food and he doesn't really even like Crookshanks. He probably wants someone to have a big family with, but I want a career where I can learn and improve. Our lives would just clash. We'd never make each other happy.”

“So you wouldn't mind...?” Lavender asked. Her eyes were still swollen and she looked hideous with the facial mask, but her eyes were beginning to sparkle and she was half-way seated in the tub, bubbling with energy and hope. 

“I love him like a brother, just like Harry,” Hermione said with a smile. “But it won't be more, not from me, so if you want, I won't mind. I can actually tell you the things he likes, you know? I know him pretty well.”

“Oh Mione, you're the best!” Lavender screamed, jumping up from the tub and spraying bubbles and water all over the room. She clambered across the room and threw herself against Hermione, completely naked, wet and covered in bubbles and bath oils, burying her face with the facial mask into Hermione's uniform, and she just knew she'd have to clean the outfit. She also had no idea what to do with her hands with a naked witch against her. Carefully she kept her eyes on the ceiling and patted Lavender's wet shoulder. “There, there...” she said, hoping it'd calm down her sobs. Those were happy tears, she guessed. 

Soon enough Lav seemed to get a hold of herself. “Thank you,” she said with profound gratitude. “Oh Merlin's beard, I've messed up your uniform! I'm so sorry!” she squeaked. “Let me clean that up for you!” She took her wand and cleaned Hermione's outfit with three efficient Charms that left it neater than it had been before she entered the bathroom. “All better!”

“Thanks,” Hermione smiled. “I'll let you finish. Please don't be angry at Parvati, Lav,” she told her. 

“I won't,” she promised. “This is the best day of my life!”

“I'm glad,” Hermione said and exited the bathroom, leaving Lavender to frantically scrub and dry herself, while she attacked her essay with frenzy. Knowing Lav and Parvati they'd probably give her no peace tonight. Her quill flew across the parchment and she levitated the two books in front of her as she scribbled down what she'd found on that particular Charm and its history.

Lav and Parvati returned before she'd finished, but surprisingly they allowed her to finish it in peace before they dragged her into a long discussion about boys and especially about Ronald. Both Lavender and Parvati had dated boys before and they knew a lot of things: before she retired to bed, Hermione was a lot less anxious and a lot more knowledgeable about sex. Lavender had borrowed her two books that were definitely not available in the school library, and Lav had told her that her mother would probably strangle her if she knew she had books such as these. 

The two girls had interrogated her on whom she did fancy if she didn't fancy Ron, but she'd refused to tell. Lav and Parvati weren't great at keeping secrets and she assumed it'd be speculated around the school all too soon, but she couldn't help it: when they'd asked about the boy she did fancy she'd lied she didn't fancy anyone and blushed furiously, eliciting delighted squeals from the two girls who both declared her an outrageous liar and clapped happily. 

They'd never guess, she knew. She took out her book on Transfiguration and began to read. She'd have to work through breakfast again... After a while she sighed and replaced it with Lavender's book. It contained... instructions. With graphic details. And moving pictures. Hermione blushed crimson and began to read.


	35. Chapter 35

Susan Bones was a big surprise to Hermione. They'd met briefly on the first day of classes, and Hermione gave her condolences over her loss: Susan was trying to recover with help from Justin. Justin and Susan were now nearly inseparable: a very sweet couple, not the kind that snogged in corners and alcoves, but the type that walked holding hands and seemed to communicate without any words.

On the third day Justin approached her, seeming to drag Susan along with him. Susan's face was almost crimson with embarrassment, and she seemed to hiss protests from the corner of her mouth to Justin. 

“Hey Justin, hi Susan,” Hermione greeted them. “How are you?”

“We're fine, Hermione, how are you doing?” Justin said.

“Fine?” she replied, looking at them both with mild confusion. “Is something...?”

“Oh, Susan plays the cello,” Justin said happily, ignoring the way his girlfriend dropped her head in shame, “and she wanted to ask if she could sometimes play with you. She's too shy to ask.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, Susan!” Hermione exclaimed. “I'd love to play with you, you needn't be shy.” Susan looked relieved, although her face was still flushed. “Do you have your cello with you?”

“Yeah,” Susan replied, “Mum shrank it for my luggage. It's in my dormitory now. I don't like using the Shrinking and Engorgement Charms on it more than I have to: it takes forever to get it back into tune every time. Justin promised to help me carry it though.”

“Great! When would you like to practise?”

“Do you have time today?”

“Some,” Hermione replied. “I have one free period between eleven and twelve.”

“It would work for me too,” Susan replied. “Do you have a room to practise in?”

“I thought we could use the Room of Requirement,” Hermione suggested. “We can have it equipped with perfect acoustics as well as stands for notes, good chairs and so forth.”

“Brilliant!” Susan exclaimed. “Can Justin come too?”

“Of course!” Hermione said. “I actually have a suggestion for something we could perform...” She dug into her book bag and drew out a few papers she used for composing. “I ask you don't show these to anyone, I hope I can trust you?” When Susan nodded, she handed the papers over. “I finished it last night. I wrote it for vocals with a violin backing, but we can modify it to a lower octave to suit your cello.”

Susan was already reading the notes, first giving a cursory glance overall, then concentrating on the cello and the vocals separately, seeing how they'd interact. “Oh, this is brilliant!” she exclaimed. “And it's a wizarding song, too!”

“Yes,” Hermione said with a smile. “I got the idea a while back. I might have to change something or other, but I'd like to try it.”

“I'd love to!” Susan cried. “It'd be such an honour. You don't need to change the octave if you're busy, I think I can remember to keep it lower. I can read both treble clef and bass clef.”

“I'll change them later, then. So, let's meet at four in front of the Room of Requirement?”

“Yes!” Susan said happily, “We'll be there. Thank you so much, Hermione. Playing helps me, too, it's such a relief to be able to play and with someone of your talent...”

“The pleasure's all mine,” Hermione told her, “I've never had the chance to sing here, and I do need to practise if I'm to perform. I've got to run to Arithmancy now, see you guys later!” she said, rushing towards Vector's classroom.

 

*****************************************************

 

Susan was truly talented with her cello. They tested it, changed a few notes here and there, tested again, changed it just a bit further... and then it was perfect. Justin listened in rapt attention as Susan's cello and Hermione's voice twined together in a lovely harmony. He couldn't read the notes but admired the song. When they were almost out of time, Hermione smiled. “Susan,” she asked, “how would you like to perform with me?”

Susan's jaw dropped open. “Me?”

“Yes. You're really, really great. I'd love to perform with you. They've asked me for an interview at the Wizarding Wireless Network next Wednesday on 'The Witching Hour'. We could perform it there, live.”

“Glenda Chittock?” Susan squealed. “I might meet Glenda Chittock?”

“If she's the one running the show, then yes, I think so?” Hermione said. “I didn't really ask, Professor Dumbledore just sent me a note about it.”

“Oh, so awesome! Do you think I'll be good enough, though?”

“Definitely,” Hermione said, “but if you're uncertain, we could ask Professor Flitwick to listen and give us a few tips. He's really great. And I'm sure we have time to practise.”

Susan was brimming with excitement as they departed for supper: Susan and Justin took off immediately to take Susan's cello back to Susan's room, while Hermione took the notes and began changing the octave to lower. Honestly, the cello sounded better in the background than the violin would have, Hermione thought. 

 

*****************************************************

The supper was amusing, Hermione thought, as she witnessed Lavender moving into a full assault mode on Ronald. She'd primped herself to perfection, sat herself next to him and engaged him in a conversation about Quidditch. Before the supper was over, she'd managed to convince him to give her lessons in Wizard's Chess, told him she'd cheer at him at the Quidditch tryouts, batted her eyelashes and offered him food, which always sunk well with Ronald: Lav poured admiration and adoration upon him in spades, buckets and barrels, making Ron look quite flustered and giddy. Hermione had to bite back the biggest grins and snickers, while Harry gave her and Ron odd looks. Lav was offering him a third helping of pudding (“You'll need the extra energy!”) when she left for her 'detention' with Snape.

Unfortunately Harry had other ideas. He followed after her as she headed for the dungeons: Severus had left ten minutes earlier, and Hermione almost felt sad having to miss the rest of Lavender's great performance, but she wanted to be on time. “Really, Harry, I do know my way to the dungeons,” Hermione huffed.

“I know. I'll just walk with you. I just wanted to say you don't need to worry about Ron, you know. He's just... he'll get over her. I think you're more Ron's type than Lavender.”

“I'm not interested in Ron that way, Harry,” she told him. 

“But you've fancied him for years!”

“Not any more,” Hermione said calmly. “We're too different, Harry, we've nothing in common.”

“Yes you do!” Harry argued. “We've all been best friends for ages and...”

“And it doesn't mean it'd be a good relationship, Harry,” Hermione said. “A relationship needs more than friendship to work. I don't care about Quidditch, he doesn't care about studying and books. He doesn't like Crookshanks and I'm not the type to cook marvellous meals like his mum does or settle down raise a brood of children.”

“But Lavender isn't...”

“Lavender fancies Ronald,” she cut him off, “and if it turns out that Ron fancies Lavender too, then it's good and I'll support it,” she said as they reached the door of the Potions classroom. She knocked on the door and waited to hear Snape's customary 'Enter'. “Now if you'll excuse me, I've...”

Just then the door slammed open and Severus stood there in his full teaching robes. He must have heard Harry's voice arguing in the corridor. Snape looked malevolent and vicious.

“Mr Potter, what gives me the... pleasure?” he asked with a voice that dripped distaste and sarcasm.

“I just walked Hermione over...” Harry tried.

“While Gryffindors are barely capable of anything, Miss Granger has managed to make her way down to this very door on her own for over five years now, Potter, while you, on the other hand, have demonstrated the capability to barely dress yourself and tie your shoelaces every morning. I had already rejoiced over the wonderful miracle of not having to teach you Potions ever again,” Snape said with a vicious sneer that bared his yellow and crooked teeth, “and yet here you stand. If you have nothing of importance, I suggest you depart at once.”

Harry looked outraged but managed a nod and left with a stiff back and posture. “Inside,” Severus snapped at Hermione, and slammed the door closed when she'd entered. He locked the door and his stiff posture loosened. “I'm sorry, little love,” he sighed. 

“Why do you hate Harry so much?” she asked.

“He reminds me of his parents,” Severus confessed with a sigh, pulled her close and kissed her tenderly. “His father was a bully and a swine when we were at school.”

“He bullied you?”

“Yes. He, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. A nasty gang that made my life a living hell for seven years.”

“You knew both his parents?” she asked.

“I did,” he confessed. 

“She was a bully too?”

“No,” Severus said. “I really don't like talking about this, Hermione.”

“Sorry, I shouldn't pry.”

“No, don't apologise,” he said. “Shall we test your Occlumency, little love? Then we can have some tea and talk a bit more.”

She'd progressed further, though not quite as much as the previous time, but Severus was impressed nonetheless: after he'd failed at teaching Potter, it felt like a wonder. She no longer fell off her feet when he pried into her mind: she now barely flinched. After four tries she was a bit tired, and Severus invited her to his private quarters for tea.

The hidden doorway was behind a painting in his office: there was another entry in the corridor, he told her, and smiled as he whispered the password (“Little love”) loud enough for her to hear. He looked at her tenderly as the door opened for them to enter. The walls of his small sitting room were filled with books: there was a fireplace, a thick and soft carpet, a nice sofa and two reading chairs, as well as a table, which had a few books and parchments littered on it. There were no photographs anywhere: the room looked and felt comfortable but there was nothing that indicated any feminine touch.

Severus went through one of the doors to the kitchen to make tea: he liked to brew his own tea, he said, from his own blend. The blend that the house-elves served was a bit bland, Hermione admitted. She looked at his collection of books until she heard him chuckle behind her.

“You like my collection, little love?”

“I love them,” Hermione admitted. “So many books!”

“This is only a part of my collection. Most of them are at Spinner's End, my house,” he said. “Come and have tea, little love. I ordered some scones and jam from the kitchen earlier.”

“Thank you, Severus,” she said and cuddled next to him on the sofa. They drank their tea in companionable silence: he lit the fireplace which soon warmed the room.

“There's so much that I don't know about you,” she told him.

“You can ask,” he promised, “although I reserve the right not to answer.” His eyes sparkled mischievously. He'd removed his teaching robes and was now dressed in his shirtsleeves and customary black slacks.

“I, well, I realised I'd never asked if you've ever been, you know, married, or if you even have children.” She blushed when he laughed.

“Hermione, look at me,” he said. “No woman has ever wanted me. Before you, I'd never even kissed, unless you count the kisses my mam must have given me when I was a child.”

“Oh...”

“You, little love, are the entire extent of my experience with a woman.”

“But you're so...”

“I know what I look like, little love,” he sighed, “I've no illusions. I've heard it all many times enough.”

“You're beautiful to me, Severus,” she said and set down her cup, took his cup and set it down next to hers, then gently pushed him backwards in the sofa and moved to kiss him, straddling him. He groaned appreciatively, his hands curled around her to bring her closer, one hand snaking to cup her breast.

“I've never been with anyone else before either,” she told him, “but I borrowed a couple of books yesterday. I want to show you...” Gathering her courage she moved off his lap, kneeled in front of him, and keeping their eye contact she slowly opened his slacks, baring his boxers. Severus' breath was now faster and harsh, and his eyes had grown wider and darker as lust began to form in them. 

She pushed down his boxers and bared his erection to her eyes. He was leaning back and kept his eyes on her, panting as he watched her looking at his erection. It seemed almost too big to go inside her, but she gathered her courage and leant closer to him, opened her mouth and licked the tip gently. He moaned in pleasure, his penis throbbing, and a small bead of pre-cum formed at the tip. 

Gently she took the length into her hand and licked him again, circling the crown with her tongue before she carefully took it into her mouth. The taste was new to her: salty and masculine. She couldn't take it all the way without gagging, but she gently caressed the rest with her hand as the book had instructed, and suckled on him. 

Severus moaned and his hips jerked. He clenched his hands to side of the sofa on one side, while the other hand sought purchase on the fabric. His eyes were now closed and he leaned his head back, his breathing harsh and ragged. Hermione carefully made sure her teeth wouldn't graze his skin before she began to move her head slowly, keeping suction on him. Once in a while she allowed her tongue to caress the underside of his cock.

Severus seemed to have lost the control of his mouth: he chanted her name, moaned in feral pleasure as she caressed him. She was in no way an expert, but he didn't seem to mind. In less than a minute he was obviously nearing his peak. “Oh Hermione, oh love, yes, yes, don't stop, oh love don't stop! He chanted frantically. “Yes,” he moaned, “yesyesyesyes... Oh love, I'm...” suddenly he seemed to loose all control: his hips pounded his cock into her mouth uncontrollably, pushing himself inside her mouth to the hilt in frantic jerks, and she had to fight down her gag reflex: he whole body stiffened for a moment, muscles tensed, groaning his pleasure as his cock twitched and filled her mouth with his seed. She swallowed it down, trying not to linger on the thickness and taste: it was salty but not terribly unpleasant. Really, the infirmary gave out potions that felt and tasted far worse. She couldn't swallow it all: some had dribbled on her chin and she wiped it off, cleaning her fingers with a quick Charm. 

Severus seemed boneless, laying on the sofa, his breath still rapid and ragged, until he managed to open his eyes and lift his head. “Oh Hermione,” he groaned and pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately. He laughed, truly laughed, and his fingers made their way under her skirt and into her panties, caressing her clitoris gently but with gathering speed until she panted and whimpered, begging for release, and her world finally exploded with pleasure that shook her entire body. The orgasm seemed to continue for ages until he allowed her to fall boneless into his arms. 

“You are incredible,” he told her. “I love you so much.” He pulled her closer still, peppering her with small kisses, only pausing to kiss her lips before his lips continued the assault on her skin.

They had no time to continue with Occlumency that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but I'm not going to make Severus "pretty" for anyone. His teeth are described as crooked and yellow, his nose huge and hooked, his skin is sallow and his hair lank and greasy. I will not be changing any of that, not with Charms or Muggle treatments. There will be no chiselled jaws or super abs: she's a thin and sallow and quite ugly, but I also believe in internal beauty and love that goes beyond the surface.


	36. Chapter 36

The rising new star Mione G gives an exclusive interview for 'The Daily Prophet'

By Barnabas Cuffe 

 

It was a great honour and a pleasure to be allowed to interview the new rising star Mione G for 'The Daily Prophet'. Though Mione G has made her name very known in the Muggle world, she is only just expanding her career to the Wizarding world. 

Mione G, better known to many by her real name Hermione Granger, is currently a sixth-year student at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was allowed to interview the usually busy student in the office of Headmaster Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (O.M. (First Class), Grand Sorc., D. Wiz., X.J. (sorc.), S. of Mag.Q.) by his personal invitation. According to Headmaster Dumbledore, Mione G, Miss Granger, is a very dedicated student with stellar grades and a very busy schedule packed with a large variety of courses at N.E.W.T.-level.

Mione G is a very attractive young woman of sixteen under her normally unassuming school uniform. The first impression I received from seeing the young woman face to face was that she seemed quite mousy and prim in her standard Gryffindor uniform: a dedicated student very unlike the liberally dressed and gorgeous woman she portrays on stage. 

(Wizarding photograph of Mione G in her stage attire, twirling around a pole at the London concert)

BC: “Miss Granger, Mione G, it is an honour to be able to interview you.”

HG: “Thank you, Mr Cuffe, it is an honour to meet you too.”

BC: “First of all, I must say I find your attire surprising. I was fully expecting the stage attire and make-up.”

HG: (laughing lightly) “I guess many do. I respect the Hogwarts uniform and here at school I am but a normal student, just like everyone else. To dress differently would feel like disrespecting the school and its rules. I also wish to dedicate all my time for my studies.”

BC: “Understandable, of course. Professor Dumbledore tells me you are widely known as 'the brightest witch of her age', and that your grades are nearly perfect?”

HG: “Headmaster Dumbledore is very kind. I always strive to do as well as I possibly can.”

BC: “Do you find it difficult to combine school with a singing career in the Muggle world?”

HG: “Not at all. I am very busy during the school year, but so far I've only sung during the summer. This year, I believe, will be much more challenging, because there's a lot of homework on the N.E.W.T.-level, I've chosen to take quite a few classes, and I also have to find time for singing this year.”

BC: “Which subjects are you tackling this year?”

HG: “Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Potions.”

BC: “Seven, that is quite impressive.”

HG: “I received ten O.W.L.s originally, with nine 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations', but chose to drop Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic and Astronomy. It's a pity, I really enjoyed all of them.”

BC: “And your favourite class?”

HG: “Gosh, I like everything. But I think my favourite subject would be Arithmancy, followed by Charms, Transfiguration and Potions.”

BC: “And a favourite teacher?”

HG: “I appreciate all my Professors as long as they are competent. We have had some unfortunate ones during recent years, but luckily none of them are here this year. Overall Hogwarts employs excellent quality instructors who are highly professional and capable. I appreciate them all.”

BC: “I see. Do you have any goals in your school career or your life?”

HG: “I'd like to complete my N.E.W.T.s as well as I possibly can, and then pursue a career in one or more of my favourite subjects, possibly combining them. I'd like to help make the world a better place. I also wish to continue singing.”

BC: “Do you find it difficult to adjust to the Wizarding world as a Muggle-born?”

HG: “Occasionally, especially at the beginning. I desperately wanted to fit in, to belong, and to learn as much as I possibly could about everything. It isn't always easy, but I've met and learned to know many interesting and lovely people in this World.”

BC: “One of these people is, I understood, the famous Harry Potter?”

HG: “Harry, Ronald Weasley and I have been the best of friends since we were all first-years.”

BC: “There has been speculation of your close relationship with Mr Potter?”

HG: “The rumours are false. I am not and never have been anything more than friends with Harry, nor do I wish to be. Both my friends are like brothers to me.”

BC: “I believe many of our readers would like to know if you have a relationship with someone, dating, I believe, is what young people call it? You name has been attached to the Bulgarian Seeker Mr Viktor Krum?”

HG: “At this moment I don't wish to discuss such personal matters, but right now I'm not looking to pursue such a relationship with anyone. I will be placing my schooling and singing first. As for Viktor... he took me to the Yule Ball during my fourth-year, and we are still pen pals. He encouraged my singing career, but there is no further attachment between us more than friendship.”

BC: “Understandable, of course. And can we expect performances in the Wizarding world?”

HG: “I have promised to appear at the Wizarding Wireless Network next Thursday at the programme 'The Witching Hour'. I will be performing my new song live there. It is the first non-Muggle song I have written. I have also promised Headmaster Dumbledore to perform at the school a few times, and we're looking at other options as well.”

BC: “Would you be willing to tell us about the new song?”

HG: “Not yet, I'm afraid, it'll be a surprise.”

BC: “Of course, I understand. Do you write your own songs?”

HG: “Almost all of them, yes, although I sometimes do covers. I'm also classically trained, so I occasionally enjoy singing a bit of opera, although my vocal range isn't quite wide enough for a professional opera career.”

BC: “And how did you begin your career?”

HG: “My parents enrolled me in a variety of hobbies when I was a child. I danced ballet for quite a number of years, and they hired me a private vocal coach when I showed promise in a hobby group. I was also taught to play the piano, and I learned to pole-dance for the performances. I'd performed a bit at family gatherings, but Viktor heard me sing and encouraged me to apply for a recording deal. I sent a sample through my family, it got accepted and my record was published. It spiralled from there, and during last summer I had my first bigger concert tour, including performances in Germany, France and Italy”

BC: “How fascinating. Will there be another tour next summer?”

HG: “The negotiations are not through, but I believe it is possible. I should also be working on my next record soon.”

BC: “It sounds like you have quite a busy year ahead of you indeed!”

HG: “Definitely.”

BC: “Do you have any favourites among the other Wizarding artists?”

HG: “Unfortunately the fact that I spend my vacations home in my Muggle family has made it impossible to indulge in a lot of Wizarding music or artists, but the few samples I have heard have been very impressive. Music is a universal language, after all, and I believe it makes all musicians family in a way.”

BC: “What a lovely sentiment for someone so young! You will be turning seventeen soon?”

HG: “Yes, quite soon actually, my seventeenth birthday is on the 19th of September, so only a little while.”

BC: “That means you'll be a legal adult in our world. Do you have any big celebrations planned?”

HG: “None. I don't usually celebrate my birthday while I'm at school.”

BC: “I see, such a pity. Miss Granger, Mione G, I hope we will have a chance to see your perform to bigger audiences sometime soon in our world.”

HG: “Thank you, it would be a great honour for me as well.”

BC: “Headmaster Dumbledore, a few words with you, if you please? Does Hogwarts support Mione G's career in music?”

AD: “Oh yes, completely. Professor Filius Flitwick, our Charms Master, has already offered some help and collaboration, I believe, and the whole school would without a doubt enjoy her performances, which might help lessen the tensions during the stressing school year. I shall also offer my assistance in her endeavours, as will, I believe, the other members of our staff. She is a very bright and talented young student, one of the greatest promises in the Wizarding world today. I believe she will go far.”

 

***********************************************************

Hermione felt the eyes on various students on her as Ginny read the interview aloud at breakfast. The owls had dropped the papers all over the tables, and both students and staff kept staring at her more than ever. It wasn't as terrible as when Skeeter had published the trashy article about the made-up love triangle between her, Harry and Viktor, but she had no doubt that she'd be answering a lot of questions that day and that the next owl mail would contain quite a number letters and possibly a few Howlers as well.

“Didn't seem bad.” Harry said. 

“It was quite decent compared to what Skeeter would have written. But he censored it quite a bit.”

“Whmph dmmh hm thumck mhth?” Ron tried to ask over a mouthful of fried eggs.

“Swallow, then talk, Ronald,” Hermione said tiredly. Ron flushed and swallowed. Lavender took the opportunity to offer him another sausage. 

“What did he take out?” Ron finally managed to ask, and took the sausage that Lavender offered.

“I said that the looming war against You-Know-Who would also make this year challenging, and he asked me if I really believed there would be another war, to which I said yes, there probably would be, considering You-Know-Who is gathering forces, like giants, and the attack we faced at the Department of Mysteries. They didn't print any of that.”

“It's 'The Daily Prophet', what did you expect?” Harry huffed. 

“I know,” she sighed. 

“So, can we expect a performance from you?” Ginny queried. She and Dean had moved to sit closer to the trio for the occasion. 

“Probably. Professor Dumbledore said that he and Professor Flitwick had invented a way to show my concert from tape to the whole school.”

“What's a tape?” Ron asked.

“It's a Muggle thing,” Hermione said, and Harry spared her from further explanations by cutting in:

“But there's no electricity for VCR, and the magic would interfere with the cassette player and a telly, or a movie projector for that matter?”

“It involved a lot of Charms and the use of a Pensieve,” Hermione said. “Professor Flitwick was very excited about it. Professor Dumbledore said the viewing will be one evening on a weekend and it'll be completely voluntary.”

“We can bet that not a single Slytherin will show up,” Harry said, casting a dark glance at the Slytherin table. “They won't want to see a Muggle-born perform.”

“They might come to sneer and disrupt,” Ron suggested, drawing a few nods from the others listening in.

Hermione sighed and took the envelope containing her invitation to the 'special lessons' with Professor Slughorn on Friday evenings, tucking it into her bag. Harry and Ginny had both received one as well, but Neville had been left out, though he'd been invited to join the luncheon on the train. Slughorn had probably considered him a disappointment. Ron looked a bit bitter, but Lav shoved the tray of eggs into his direction and winked at Hermione, who smiled back. 

She sighed and took off to her first lesson. She'd have to find time to rehearse the song with Susan, and she'd be able to meet Severus in the evening. She barely had any time to use with the boys, and hadn't had time to help them with their homework, rushing through hers at a frantic pace to find time to practise Occlumency.


	37. Chapter 37

Severus was obviously in a bad — no, terrible — mood, the whispers in the corridors and the Gryffindor table told Hermione as much. He'd deducted an obscene amount of points from three houses, and Hermione was quite certain even Slytherin was missing points that had been there the night before. When she knocked on the door after the meal, the good feelings she's gained from a successful rehearsal session with Susan had all but dissipated when his customary “enter” was delivered with a loud and enraged shout. 

She'd seen him enraged before, but not since summer, not to her. For just a short moment she was afraid she'd done something wrong: the man had, after all, spent years being a nasty git. She did, however, gather enough courage to walk up to him and kiss him, and the tension in his muscles seemed to melt away slowly. He groaned at last and rose up from his seat behind his desk. 

“A bad day?” she asked.

“Very. There was a fight in the Slytherin common room,” he replied with a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and clenching his black eyes shut, “A physical one, I might add. There were two bloody noses and a variety of bruises.”

“What did they fight about?” she inquired, curious as to why the usually collected and cold Slytherins would end up brawling like a bunch of, well, Gryffindors.

“You.”

“Me?!”

“You,” he repeated and shook his head. “Well, about this,” he said, took a large roll of shiny paper from the drawer of his desk and gave it to her. Curiously she rolled it open and realised she was staring at a large poster-size photo of herself: the figure was blowing kisses to the camera and winked before the cycle started all over again. She recognised the picture as one of those she'd posed in for Colin Creevey: the Creevey brothers had stalked after her with their camera relentlessly until she promised to pose for a few pictures for them. They'd been replicating them and selling them around the school, she'd heard, and apparently quite a number of copies had been purchased. 

“A fourth-year half-blood bought a photo of you from one of the Creeveys,” Severus explained. “He apparently cast an Engorgio on it and made it into a poster, which he then hung by his bed in the dormitory. Someone said something less than savoury about you, which made the boy angry enough to jump on the culprit and punch him in the nose. From there on it spread, with some students defending your honour, the others degrading you, until I was alerted by one of the Prefects. I had to deduct fifty points from my own house!” he groaned, “As well as distribute salves to heal bruises and lecture the various dunderheads about proper decorum and behaviour, and dole out detentions with Filch. Stop laughing, Hermione!” he glared at her.

She couldn't help it: the entire thought was simply too hilarious. 

“The cool and collected Slytherins... brawling because... of a... Mudblood!” she managed to gasp in the fit of giggles.

“Do not use that word!” Severus snapped. 

“Sorry,” she grinned unrepentantly.

“You are not,” he growled and pulled her to him, nipping at her neck.

“No, I'm not. Are you going to give me more detention, Professor Snape?” she asked. 

“Cheeky girl,” he murmured, kissing her lips. “We need to arrange some other excuse from this week forth, if Albus allows me to continue these lessons. You are progressing well, but I don't want to give him too much information or he'll end the lessons all too soon.”

“A compliment from Professor Snape. How extraordinary!” she quipped.

“Nobody would ever believe you, little love,” he smirked.

“They wouldn't,” she admitted. “Anyway, the situation is bound to...”

Without a warning Severus attacked her mind, using Legilimency non-verbally and without a wand, and Hermione had to concentrate in clearing her mind as fast as she could as well as tossing him out. It took her less than five seconds, and one meagre memory (Parvati snoring like a broken chainsaw and Hermion contemplating on stuffing a pillow into her mouth) escaped her mind before she managed to block him. Severus had stopped giving her advance warnings the previous session, and now had started to use sneak attacks: the first one had enraged her and she'd toppled off her chair, but they were becoming easier to resist. 

“Well done, little love,” Severus admitted. “But you need to learn to clear your mind for a longer time and do it faster. That one single memory might have contained something incriminating.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But Occluding constantly gives me a headache.”

“You needn't Occlude constantly unless you are in a dangerous situation, but getting a Legilimens out faster is important.”

“I'll work on it.”

“You are progressing well,” he admitted again. “Potter never learned to empty his mind of emotion on the most rudimentary level, and he resolved in using his wand to throw me out of his mind. I doubt he ever really even tried to practise. The stupid boy wanted to see into the Dark Lord's mind.”

“Ron actually suggested you never actually wanted to teach him,” Hermione admitted.

“Weasley is an idiot,” Severus scoffed. “Albus should have taught the boy himself. It was a bad idea to have me teach the boy to begin with. I can barely stand the sight of him, let alone teach him, and he is insolent, stubborn and unwilling to learn, especially from me.”

“He just doesn't trust you,” Hermione said.

“Of course he doesn't,” Severus said. “Trusting me would require him to use his head. I could have killed him a hundred times over the years had I wanted to.”

“I know...” Hermione began, when another attack stopped the words. Severus got a partial memory of her first encounter with Neville, but she managed to block him faster. 

“Well done,” he praised and kissed her again. “Mastering this skill is rare, but my little know-it-all can accomplish whatever she decides to do.” Another attack came like a viper's sting, followed by another almost immediately, and Hermione had to take a hold of the desk to keep herself from falling over. On the third strike her mind flooded with emotions and memories, and Hermione blocked him by closing her eyes and turning away. She cringed in shame. 

“Don't worry,” he said, “mastering this skill will take time. We'll continue soon. Tea?”

“Perhaps kisses?” she haggled, and Severus chuckled, leading her to his sitting room, where he pulled her to his arms and covered her mouth with his. 

“Minx,” he teased.

“I am,” she admitted. “Why is that Slytherin boy's poster in your drawer, Professor?” she asked.

“I couldn't very well leave it with him, could I now?” he said. “I do have a reputation as the Head of Slytherin. I confiscated it and told them I'd Incendio it.”

“I can imagine what the reactions would be like if you were to stick it into your own wall,” Hermione smirked. “Perhaps I should send you one of the Mione G-dolls from Fred and George.”

“Dolls?” Severus inquired. 

“They've produced a small doll in my likeness. It dances around a small pole and blows small heart-shaped kisses. Very tacky,” she said with a cringe.

“Good gods,” he groaned, shaking his head, before he attacked her mind again. Hermione blocked him out after he got out two more fairly innocuous memories from her time at Hogwarts. 

“Unfair!” Hermione chided him.

“You never know when an attack comes,” Severus told her. 

“I highly doubt that either the Headmaster or You-Know-Who would have me straddle them and snog me senseless while using Legilemency,” she chided him, and Severus' eyes went wide before he began laughing out loud. 

“I can but imagine! Merlin protect us all from being snogged by the Dark Lord. I could imagine Albus trying something like that, if the man wasn't as bent as a corkscrew.”

“Really?” Hermione looked at him incredulously.

“Really, but don't go spreading that story.”

“I won't... Severus, I have to ask you something.”

“Ask, though I reserve the right not to answer,” he said with a smirk.

“Could I take a look at your books? I've been dying to...”

“I was wondering when you'd get there, little love. Feel free to browse while I make us some tea. But do not go to the shelf on the left, next the the bedroom door,” he warned her, “Those books contain very Dark Magic some of them are very, very dangerous.” Kissing her gently he set her down and watched her make a beeline to the nearest shelf. He prepared their tea and chuckled when he found her immersed in the books, her eyes alight with excitement.

“There are so many in here!” she enthused, her fingers gently caressing the spines.

“Many of them are books I use regularly and can't be found at the school library,” he said. “I have more at home, especially some books that I can access at the school library should I need them”

“Could I... could I borrow this one?” she asked, showing him a tome about medicinal potions. 

“Yes, I know you will treat it properly and return it in pristine condition,” he said. “Do not read it at the Gryffindor table. I have seen how neatly some of your mates eat.” 

“I won't,” she promised. 

“Actually, I should borrow you another one,” he said and cast an Accio to retrieve a certain book from the shelf. “This should help you with Occlumency when we go further in our studies, where you are supposed to only show certain memories and emotions and hide the rest.”

Hermione took the book with an excited expression on her face. “Thank you. I'll read them both in bed.”

“Well, that is light bedtime reading for you, little genius,” he said. “I would have imagined that you'd have no time to read this year?”

“I've had very little time,” she admitted. “The class schedule is hectic, I barely have time to do homework and rehearse with Susan. I've written a new song...”

“Susan Bones?”

“Yes.”

“Does she sing or play something?”

“The cello,” Hermione replied. “I modified the song to be backed by a cello. Sounds better than the violin, actually.”

“Would you sing it for me?” he asked.

“Sure,” she promised, “although it sounds much better with the cello in the background.”

She sang the song to him there, and Severus closed his eyes in pleasure as her soft song filled the air. Her ballads pleased him, though he'd never learned to enjoy the more energetic pop-type songs. 

“Lovely,” he complimented her.

“Thanks. We're hoping we'll be able to perform it at the Wizarding Wireless Network broadcast next week.”

“I'm sure you'll be ready. Albus spoke about that at the staff meeting. He's planning on allowing the students to listen in on it.”

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione groaned.

“I did tell you Albus will be trying to use your talent for his benefit,” he reminded her.

“I know,” she sighed, put down her cup and made her way to him, slipping into his lap again, kissing him gently. 

“We shouldn't be doing this,” he reminded him as he groaned in pleasure and his hips jerked up involuntarily. “You're so very young, and I'm your Professor...”

“Shut up, Professor,” she said with a smile.

“Cheeky minx,” he murmured, allowing his hands to caress her.

“Did you like what I did... last time?”

“Could you not tell?”

“I think I could. I think I could do better though. I read the instructions thoroughly.”

“Leave it to the Gryffindor Princess to learn these things from a book,” he said and moaned as her hand cupped him through his trousers: he shoved himself against her hand. 

“Admit that you love it,” she said and slid off, opening his slacks.

He felt a twinge of guilt when she sputtered as he thrust his cock deep inside her mouth, unable to hold back his reactions when she fondled and caressed his bollocks, and another twinge when he remembered how young she was, but when he came into her mouth with a wordless howl of ecstasy, his hips thrusting and his hands twined into her hair, he had to admit she might have indeed done it better than the previous time.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quotes modified and adapted from Rowling, J. K., "Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince", Bloomsbury publishing 2005, pg 174 — 178.

Friday came, and it was finally time for Professor Slughorn's anticipated extra Potions lesson, a subject of great speculation around the school. Severus had told her that Slughorn had practically interrogated him on the grades the students had earned, asking countless questions about their success, and peppered every other Professor with queries on who was related to whom, what their grades were, their strengths, weaknesses...

It didn't surprise anyone that Neville hadn't been invited to the lessons, and Neville had shrugged the matter off in good spirits, concentrating his efforts on his stronger subjects, especially Herbology. Hermione still felt bad for him: to be invited in once and then discarded probably felt terrible. Poor Neville.

The rumour also said that Draco Malfoy had been excluded, which was a big surprise: Draco had always received high grades at Potions, although Harry and Ron always said it was mostly just favouritism from Snape. Hermione had felt an urge to smirk at the downfall of the haughty Slytherin, but for some reason she remembered how utterly miserable he'd looked when she'd seen him on the train, and the joy vanished when a feeling of pity once again twinged her. 

She made her way to the Dungeons with Harry: Ron hadn't been invited, but it was clear that the grades had nothing to do with being invited or excluded from the club, since Cormac McLaggen had been boasting with his invite. It'd taken Hermione ages to convince Harry to attend, and she'd finally used the simple tactic of telling Harry that Malfoy would be regally brassed when Harry would be allowed to attend while he'd been excluded. Harry had finally agreed, although he still grumbled about loosing precious free time. 

Hermione herself could barely wait for the evening's meeting with Severus. She really doubted that Slughorn could be as skilled as Severus was, but the prospect of learning something new was simply too tempting to pass up. She was also concerned about the mood Severus would be in: Professor Moody had taken a few days to settle to teaching Defence, but this morning he'd moved to sit next to Severus and had obviously spent his time making his remarks and jabs at him: Severus had scowled and hissed obviously scathing responses in a low tone, and although their voices didn't carry over to their table, their body language and expressions told a very telling tale. Severus was obviously furious, and he'd left the table sooner than usual, stalking off with his robes billowing and with a pace that expressed his rage. Later she'd heard from several other people that he'd been on a terrible mood the whole day, doling out detentions with Filch as well as cutting house points for offences such as coughing or pushing the chairs back with more noise than necessary. Harry, remembering she had 'detention' that night, had looked at her with sympathy. 

Ron had been oddly angry at her ever since the interview for the Daily Prophet. Perhaps it was just jealousy, Hermione thought, and she'd encouraged Lavender to cheer him up further. Ron seemed to enjoy the attention Lav gave him: she was very pretty, perhaps the most beautiful girl of their year, Hermione thought, with her make-up and hair always perfectly done. Now that Lavender concentrated more on pursuing Ron, she'd stopped constantly harassing Hermione with talks about make-up and clothes, although Hermione also felt a bit sad for Parvati, who'd been Lav's best friend for ages, and was now ignored more often than not while Lav concentrated on gaining Ron's attention.

Finally entering Slughorn's class Hermione took a seat next to Harry. There was a number of students there from sixth and seventh year. The Slug Club would include members from all the years, but the extra lessons were only for the two last years, since they'd be brewing complicated potions. The classroom was quite similar to Professor Snape's classroom, with bubbling cauldrons: there was a golden cauldron with the steam rising in alluring spirals: obviously Amortentia, and Hermione tried to take a sniff at it. She shuddered with pleasure when she smelled the scents of freshly mown grass, new parchment and the lovely musk she smelled on Severus' skin. She felt Harry reaching for it too, smiling gently. 

“Slughorn had us try to identify some potions in our class,” he said, “There was Amortentia, Polyjuice Potion and... something else, can't remember.”

“Did you get any of them right?”

“Yeah, I identified Polyjuice Potion, of course. I remembered,” Harry replied, and Hermione smiled at him.

“Now then, now then, now then,” Slughorn said, “welcome to our Slug Club's extra lessons! We will sometimes meet to brew some interesting potions together from your book 'Advanced Potion-making'. You will not be graded for these potions, nor will there be any tests,” Slughorn said with a friendly grin, and several relieved sighs were overheard, although Hermione felt slightly disappointed. “However, learning these potions here will give the sixth-years an edge in your classes and the seventh-years in your N.E.W.T.'s, since you will be able to brew these potions more easily when you've already rehearsed once. These potions seem to occur quite frequently in the practical part of your N.E.W.T.-test. And to keep things more interesting we'll have a contest each time, where the brewer of the best potion will win a special prize!”

Hermione perked up. She loved competitions like this. 

“It is time for us to start work. We will be brewing The Draught of the Living Death from page ten of your books. The one who brews the best potion will receive one tiny bottle of this... what do we have here, can anyone identify this for me?” he asked, showing them a small black cauldron containing gold-coloured liquid. Small droplets jumped up like tiny fishes from the surface.

Hermione's hand shot up, and Slughorn smiled at her. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Felix Felicis, sir, liquid luck! It makes you lucky!”

“Well done, my dear!” Slughorn cheered. “Very well done indeed! Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”

“No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see.”

“Oho! I remember now, Headmaster Dumbledore did tell me that the famous Mione G was also Muggle-born. Well indentified, nevertheless. I have heard your grades are quite excellent. Take five points to Gryffindor for identifying Felix Felicis, Miss Granger,” Slughorn said genially. 

“Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis,” Slughorn continued. Desperately tricky to make, disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavours will succeed... at least until the effects wear off. This small bottle of Felix will be our prize today. Make me the best Draught of the Living Death and the bottle will be yours. Begin!” 

Hermione had already settled her cauldron and her scales in place and took the supplies from her kit, beginning to cut up the valerian roots. Harry made his way to the store cupboard: he was still using school supplies until his own would come by owl. His copy of the 'Advanced Potion-making' was quite worn and the scales he'd borrowed were tarnished, but he'd make due. 

Hermione brewed quickly. She'd never made this potion before and she was quite certain that some of the seventh-years had: Melinda Bobbin and Cormac McLaggen seemed to know what they were doing, although McLaggen was a dolt who had more brawn than brains. Soon her potion had reached the correct shade of blackcurrant. Hermione took the Sopophorous Bean and her silver dagger and grinned before she crushed her bean: Severus had taught her the trick during the summer. She was loath to stray from the advice on the book, but from what Severus had told her, it was a better method of preparation for anything concerning Sophophorous Beans. The potion turned to a perfect shade of lilac. 

Following the advice to the end she brewed. The potion turned out nicely pale, although not exactly as pale as the book had described: finally Slughorn called the time and began touring the classroom. Some brews received approving nods, while others he stirred or sniffed. Harry grumbled: his potion was purple but all too thick and clumpy: Slughorn seemed disappointed in him. 

Slughorn declared Hermione's potion a clear winner: it wasn't exactly perfect, but better than anyone else's, and she was given the little bottle of Felix Felicis.

“Now remember, Miss Granger,” Professor Slughorn said, “to use this sparingly. If taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness and dangerous overconfidence. Highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally...”

“Thank you, sir! How much do I dare to take...?”

“A very small sip should do, Miss Granger,” Professor Slughorn beamed at her. “I have used it twice in my life. Two tablespoonfuls at breakfast, two perfect days.” He turned back to the class.

“This concludes our extra lesson for tonight. The next time we shall have a little party. At my parties you will meet many interesting and influential people. At each brewing lesson we'll have a tiny contest with a prize, although the prizes may be smaller next time,” he warned them. “Have a good evening, then, and thank you for attending!”

“You'll probably win every time,” Harry grumbled as they made their way to the Great Hall. Hermione shrugged: with seventh-year students attending she doubted her success. 

“Blaise Zabini did well,” she commented lamely, “and the seventh-years have more practice. Melinda Bobbins' family owns a chain of apothecaries.”

“Slughorn is disappointed in me,” Harry sighed. “He told me my mother had been one of his favourites, you know, on Monday. She was a dab hand at potions, he said. I feel I'll never be as good as she was...”

“You're the best at Defence, Harry,” Hermione comforted him. “You don't need to beat both of your parents at everything.”

Harry seemed cheered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I still had them brew Draught of the Living Death, because heck, I felt like it.  
> *Since Harry doesn't have the Half-Blood Prince's book, he fails. Spectacularly.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again the disclaimer: everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, I won't earn a Knut for all this work, I'm not a native English and I've no beta so please feel free to kick me with any typos or grammatical errors or mistakes I might make. I'm more than used to constructive criticism: it's my bread and butter, as it were, so I never mind when someone points out mistakes.

**Hermione, observed**

 

Dumbledore

She looked very pretty, as far as young women went, Albus Dumbledore thought. She'd lure them like flies with her fame and her looks. If only she'd dress like she did on stage... but he couldn't have that, no, not with the school dress code. The outfits would lure all those hormonal teenaged boys to her, ripe for plucking from the clutches of Tom Riddle, but that was inhibited by that damnable dress code he usually favoured so much.

She had always followed the dress code to the letter. While her classmates might shorten their skirts gradually until someone — usually Minerva — snapped at them, she dressed in her standard uniform and cloak, revealing nothing that the young girls usually did. She wore no make-up, and her hair was bushy and untamed. It'd been a big shock when he'd first seen the picture, he'd admit to himself: she was an epitome of bookworm, intelligent and seemed so boring, really, a walking dictionary, although useful for Harry, perhaps. Now she'd become a play piece by her own right, one of the most important ones, if she was played correctly. 

He might have to influence her, though. The interview gave an impression she wasn't looking for a relationship. She'd pined for the youngest Mr Weasley for years, Albus knew, oh yes, such gossip rarely escaped his attention, but apparently things had changed. Perhaps a Muggle then. But she'd be more useful if she were... available, shall we say, ready for attentions from some pure-blood or half-blood? It would solidify her status as a witch, unlike a romance with some Muggle, which would only estrange her from the community. 

Yes, there were many promising boys in the houses. No Slytherin, perhaps, although luring one of Tom's followers away by a romance with a Muggle-born would be quite a cherry on a cake, really. But perhaps a Ravenclaw? A Gryffindor would be preferable, of course.

He'd always thought her intelligence and learning could best profit Harry and the Greater Good, but she could be used in many ways. There she was, eating her small portion next to Harry, looking quite ordinary in her student robes, with her hair in a bushy mess, and so many pairs of eyes were trained on her. Admiring eyes, longing eyes, hungry eyes. 

Chess pieces should be utilized as much as they could. 

***********************************************************

Theo Nott

 

She's bloody pretty, the Mudblood. Dirty blood but by Merlin, he'd seen what her body looked under those robes. He'd respected her intelligence over the years, he'd admit in the deepest corners of his head, the Mudblood girl who could challenge the grades of a pure-blood like Zabini or Malfoy.

He'd be soiling his dick if he ever touched her, he knew. Touching a Mudblood like that was dirty, with the risk of producing offspring that was less than pure-blood, but by Merlin he'd touch her if he could, with that body. Somehow, knowing that she hid it under those voluminous robes and uniforms was even more alluring. Like a secret waiting to be revealed... 

What was Goyle saying? The idiot. He'd failed his Defence O.W.L.'s, along with Crabbe. Waste of space the pair of them. And he was a pure-blood, no less! How humiliating.

Wonder if Mudblood Granger would scream?

Why was she so bloody... intelligent? And pretty? Pansy Parkinson was a pure-blood and she had the face of a pug, while Millie Bullstrode was built like a cupboard, ugly and looked more masculine than Draco Malfoy. Granger rivalled them both. 

Ah, he'd snickered out loud. He dismissed the queries off with a wave of his elegant hand and continued picking on his food. He missed the wonderful luncheons his parents usually prepared. This food was just greasy. What he wouldn't give for a good steak... 

 

***********************************************************

Ron Weasley

There she was. Fuck. So pretty and popular. Not looking for a relationship? Fuck that. He fancied her and she'd fancied him. Or so Ginny had said. But not looking for a relationship? And she'd barely had time to help him with his essays! 

Harry had admitted she probably made a ton of cash, too. Harry had loads of it, from Sirius and his parents, and Hermione's school stuff had always been good quality, but Harry had admitted that stars like her made a ton of Galleons, while his robes were always used, his books rarely unused and he rarely had more than a few spare Knuts in his pocket for Hogsmeade outings. 

She'd not shown him any attention this year. Slughorn had invited her and Harry to his fancy club. He didn't care for the extra brewing, but she'd won a bottle of Felix Felicis. And there would be parties. He'd been tossed aside, though his grade at Potions was the same E that Harry had gotten. 

Famous Mione G. Too good for him? She was so darn pretty and smart. He'd first used that nickname for her. Now she wasn't interested in a relationship? 

Fuck that. 

Lavender Brown was smiling again. She seemed to care. She was offering him some mash. She really was pretty... would 'Mione be jealous if he'd date Lavender? She was so competitive. 

Ron smiled at Lavender and touched her hand, and Lav beamed back at him. He felt an urge to glance at 'Mione to see if she was jealous yet, but he refused to do that. She'd see right through him if he did...

 

***********************************************************

Cormac McLaggen

 

Hermione Granger was really bloody pretty. He could see the grace she carried herself with, her poise and elegance... the hair could be fixed, and she'd learn to use make-up if he urged her. Fuck, she was pretty. And clever! And talented, if the rumours were correct. He'd never heard her sing, actually, though they said she's sung at the platform: he'd been at the other end of the train talking Quidditch with some others and showing off his new broom. 

She was really pretty, sitting down the table with some of her year. Eating calmly and gracefully, unlike Weasley, who was flirting with Lavender Brown and stuffing his cheeks. Harry Potter's best friend too. She'd be a catch.

But he was a real talent at Quidditch. He'd practised. He had a new broom, muscles and the looks. 

Damn, she was hot. To kiss those lips...

 

***********************************************************

Parvati Patil

 

Hermione was here. She was absolutely cool! It almost felt shameful how little both she and Lav had thought of her during their first years, when they'd disliked how she'd lashed out to Sybill Trelawney, the way Hermione didn't appreciate Divinations, the way she dressed and didn't do her hair... and yet she'd been so awesome, so cool. 

Such a shock, seeing her in clothes that were cooler than hers or Lav's, seeing her face done so perfectly, her hair in luscious curls tumbling down her back like a cascade. And when Parvati had told her about Lav's feelings for Ron, she'd helped Lav, encouraged her, and now Lav seemed to be advancing on Ron Weasley fast and well. Lav had confessed how bad she'd felt for how she'd treated Hermione all these years, ignoring her like that. She's shed some tears for it!

To be so intelligent and so pretty at the same time, although she didn't do her hair or her skin at school... Parvati actually felt a bit jealous. Padma had told her that most Ravenclaws were actually furious that she hadn't been sorted into their House, since usually Ravenclaws held the best grades. Padma considered it an injustice, really. 

She'd ridiculed her bushy hair and had prided herself on her perfect and heavy black locks, but Hermione's hair was so voluminous and could be twisted in a variety of ways, while her hair didn't even curl properly, it always straightened itself. She'd tried to find a proper, strong curling charm... could Padma help her with that?

 

***********************************************************

Pansy Parkinson

Oh how she detested her. Bloody disgusting Mudblood, thinking she was better in every way. And Draco was looking at her! The disgusting, intolerable brat. Ew. The world would be a better place without such disgusting creatures, really. 

 

***********************************************************

 

Draco Malfoy

 

He'd heard her singing last night. He'd been trying to get to the Room of Hidden Things when he'd seen Granger, Finch-Fletchley and Bones heading that way, carrying a cello. Draco had disillusioned himself and followed close by as the trio opened the Room of Requirement and entered: he'd slipped in after them and hidden in a corner. 

Bones and Granger had played, rehearsed a song. She had a beautiful voice: it matched her pretty eyes and the stunning figure she'd hidden under her robes. It was really hard to believe, really: she'd been a gangly brat with bushy hair at eleven, but she'd matured. Draco had developed a huge crush on her during their third year, when she'd bravely slapped him: no-one had ever done that, not even his father. His parents would give him scathing comments that would sear him to the bone, express their disappointment, but they'd never actually hurt him. And there she'd been, standing above him with her messy and bushy hair surrounding her head like a halo over a Goddess. 

He'd pined for her for quite some time, but such a thing could never really be: he was a pure-blood, expected to marry another pure-blood and carry out the Malfoy line. The Mudblood was out of bounds, and he could never touch her, not like that. But she had been so magnificent. And she was so clever! She had a mind sharper than the sharpest blade. 

The emotions were returning with vengeance now. There she had been, singing with two friends: this time not Potty and Weasel, although two Hufflepuffs were barely an improvement at all. She had friends who liked her for who she was. Could he boast with something like that? Had anyone ever liked him for just... himself?

There she was now, right along Potty and Weasel. She wasn't interested in Weasel, apparently: it was a relief, really, Weasel was a long way below her, lacking both talent and intelligence. As well as decorum, Draco decided, judging by how Potty and Granger both looked at him, though Weasel had his back turned on Draco. He was again hunched over his plate, shovelling food like an animal. Granger sat with her back straight: Draco's mother could not have boasted a better posture. She ate elegantly, although, of course, the difference between even the simplest dinners at Malfoy Manor and the ones served here were shocking. One didn't need to know how to use multiple different forks and knives at a Hogwarts lunch or supper, nor the barely noticeable gestures that were used to indicate to the elves when a course could be replaced with another. 

She ate delicately, Draco noted, and not like the other Gryffindors: small bites, sipping her drink quietly, didn't talk with her mouth full, her hands elegantly around the cutlery. She seemed quiet tonight, deep in some thoughts: she'd been like that this year. What are you thinking, Hermione Granger, what's going on inside your pretty little head?

Nothing like what's happening inside my mind. So dark, so murky, so difficult to hide these emotions of darkness and despair. How every night he would wake up from his deep slumber, gasping for air from the nightmare: the Dark Lord torturing his mother while he could only watch in despair. How aunt Bellatrix goaded and berated and rummaged painfully inside his head with her crude and unrefined Legilimency until he felt he could only crumble and cry for weeks of the pain of it all. How aunt Bella seemed to stumble on all those most painful memories and feelings, jeering at him. She hadn't found Granger, thank Merlin: she'd have killed him, he had no doubt about that, if she'd felt what he'd felt for Granger. It'd been his reason, his cause for building the walls of Occlumency as high and mighty as he possibly could. Compartmentalizing his mind, emotions and thoughts, hiding his errant feeling of respect, admiration (and perhaps adoration?) for Granger somewhere deep inside, behind a lock and a key and a deep iron vault.

Potty and Weasel didn't seem to appreciate the kind of friend they had in her. What he wouldn't give to be able to trust in someone like they could trust her?

What are you thinking, Hermione Granger, when you sit like that, your eyes distant? Did you just smile a bit?

 

***********************************************************

Anthony Goldstein

Hermione Granger really should have been in Ravenclaw. What had the Sorting Hat been thinking? Of course she'd been brave too, over the years, but her grades were just superb. 

So pretty. And talented. Anthony had been charmed by her song at the platform. 

She didn't seem that interested in Weasley. The interview had stated she wasn't pursuing a relationship, but perhaps she hadn't met the right guy? After all, the Gryffindors she was usually surrounded with were just bull-headed and brash. Hermione Granger needed someone more intelligent, learned, academic... 

They were both Prefects, after all, sharing patrolling duties and such. Maybe he should ask her out for the next Hogsmeade weekend?

 

***********************************************************

Severus Snape

 

She was so beautiful there, his Hermione. He loved her so much, needed her, yearned for her. He'd been alone for so long, despised, hated, a subject of anger, resentment and ridicule. A useful tool at best, an outlet for torture at worst. No wonder he'd latched on Lily Evans all those years ago: the only one who'd ever shown him any kind of friendship or kindness. 

Of course there had been guys like Reg Black, Avery or Mulciber, but their friendship was a deal: it had a price, it was a barter and a trade. Hermione, the beautiful and bright star, gave freely. Even Lily had had her price: tutoring and support, and when he'd began shyly to express more feelings than friendship towards her, she'd backed off. He'd tried to kiss her, once, under a tree by the lake: she'd backed off like his face was encrusted with maggots and laughed at him. A lilting laughter, and a few days later he'd still been stinging from it, weary from the O.W.L.'s, humiliated by Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin, seeing the little hint of an amused smile on Lily's lips when she saw him humiliated like that, and the word 'Mudblood' had escaped in anger and stress, just like that. She'd denied him her friendship as well as her love, despite all his apologies, and joined the ranks of the bullies from that day on, looking at the poor, ragged Severus Snape with such contempt and revulsion.

Hermione, the way she looked at him... there was no pity in her eyes, which he'd seen in the eyes of some of the other women, no contempt. Her brown eyes sparkled when she kissed him, when she used her lips to... oh Merlin, he almost groaned at the memory of what she'd done, what they'd done: all those touches and kisses and her lips on his cock, and he was fully erect now, straining his trousers, heavy and hard and needy. 

She was sitting there among her friends, eating in her usual tidy way, and how he yearned to be in the same table, the way they'd sat during the summer when they ate all their meals together and he could look upon her face freely and receive some of her smiles. He hated Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, Finnegan, every bloody Gryffindor brat now more than ever, for the sheer privilege of living so close to her in Gryffindor Tower and eating at the same table she did. They took food from the same dishes as she did, while he was exiled far from her: the greasy bat in the deep, cold and smelly dungeons while she lived like the princess in her tower, she and those disgustingly handsome boys who had so much more than he did. 

But he had her, didn't he? She came to him every evening, at least for now, sat on his lap and allowed him to kiss her, to cradle and to hold her, to... 

His head swam as his erection jumped in his trousers again, his eyes pulled inevitably to her. She was in so much danger, and Albus Dumbledore would deliberately place her in the line of fire. Albus was looking at her, Severus noticed, his eyes... hungry. Severus knew Albus wouldn't think of a girl like that, and he knew the old codger well enough to know he was contemplating on ways he could use her to his advantage, for his 'Greater Good'.

The sound of Moody's peg leg alerted him of the old Auror's presence. Moody hobbled in and took a seat next to Severus, plopping on his seat heavily. Moody had been disgusting earlier, barraging him with unpleasant remarks about his 'other master' and his loyalties until Severus had decided to leave the table. This time he'd managed to almost finish his dish of fried chicken and mash, and before Moody could open his mouth, Severus pushed back his chair, slammed the napkin on the table and strode off briskly, hearing the low but taunting chuckle from Moody. 

He'd have to beware him. Moody saw too much with that eye of his, was just too observant for his own good. He'd have to protect his attachment to Hermione, hide it. 

Oh Hermione... could you love me as much as I love you?


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've used "Thomas" as Goyle Sr.'s name, since it was never mentioned in canon. A big thank you for AnKors for catching the continuity error in this chapter.

Severus was preparing for his Occlumency-lesson with Hermione when his Dark Mark burned. He groaned in frustration: of course the Summons had to come now, out of all times. The Dark Lord knew he had no lessons at this hour, and being Summoned in the evening would have been a considerate gesture, if not for the fact that one could rarely expect anything good at one of these meetings. As such, it was simply a practical time to Summon people who worked undercover. 

Summoning his robes and his mask from his closet he quickly penned a note to Hermione and called for a house-elf, instructing the note to be delivered to her. “Summoned,” he simply wrote, not daring to add any endearments or further explanations in the fear that the note might end up in the wrong hands. He then quickly exited the castle through a narrow hidden passageway close to his classroom, walking briskly outside the gates where he could meet Draco and Disapparate them both, since the boy was still too young to do it on his own. Making sure they were alone, he took a firm hold of Draco's shoulder, pulled back his sleeve, drew a calming breath, and touched the Dark Mark with his wand. 

They'd been Summoned to Malfoy Manor once again, and they quickly made their way to the room where the Dark Lord usually received his inner circle in. He could hear other Death Eaters Apparate in behind them with loud cracks and pops and felt an uneasy feeling at having someone behind his back, but to glance over his shoulder would have been a sign of weakness, and he refused that, though he kept his wand palmed and was ready to protect himself. 

Nodding curtly to some others and bowing a bit to Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix LeStrange, as the custom demanded, he kneeled in front of the Dark Lord when he entered the chamber. The Dark Lord nodded in acceptance and gestured him to take his seat, and Draco, who was just behind him, kneeled in front of the Dark Lord in turn. Draco slunk in to the chair next to his, followed soon by Travers. 

After a while the inner circle, or what was left of it after the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries, was gathered. Narcissa departed, though the custom would have demanded that the Lady of the House would have been granted a seat: she looked relieved to be excused, to be honest, though it was also a grave insult: she must have gotten used to it by now. For a while, silence reigned around the table.

“I have Summoned you all here because of one thing...” the Dark Lord said slowly. “Thomas, bring the... machine.” At his words, Thomas Goyle lumbered in, carrying a portable radio with him. He placed it on the table and after a moment of fumbling managed to turned the device on: radios seemed to work inside highly magical areas, although most Muggle devices either refused to function, did strange things or simply broke.

Hermione's voice filled the room. It was one of her Muggle pop-songs. Severus kept his face impassive and observed the faces of the others. Bellatrix looked disgusted, as did several others. Yaxley, however, tapped his foot merrily and nodded his head absently at the tune, his eyes unfocused. Slowly, each eye around the table trained on him, although he didn't quite seem to notice. 

Then he started humming along. 

“This... singer... is the Mudblood Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend...” the Dark Lord said slowly. 

Yaxley went as still as a statue, his eyes wide, and then realised he was being stared at by every single person in the room. Including the Dark Lord himself.

The Dark Lord was definitely not pleased. Not pleased at all. “Enjoying the... music, Corban?” he asked pointedly. Travers, seated next to Yaxley, was edging slowly away from him.

“No, no, not at all, my lord,” Yaxley tried. “just, just, just thinking about...”

“About... what?” the Dark Lord drawled. Travers had edged even further away, slowly putting distance between them.

“Oh, uh, just, was in a good mood when I thought about the work, the cause,” Yaxley stammered.

“Really,” the Dark Lord's voice dripped with sarcasm, and almost immediately Yaxley, who'd already been perched precariously at the edge of his seat, fell on the floor as the Dark Lord hit him with the Cruciatus. The man began screaming almost immediately, and Bellatrix seemed to be nearly wetting herself with excitement.

“My Lord, allow me, please allow me to punish him for you!” the witch screeched, keeping her wide and deranged eyes trained on the flailing man. 

“Now now Bella, have I not given you enough pleasurable tasks lately?” the Dark Lord asked.

“You have, my Lord, of course you have,” Bella stammered.

“I'll let you have a bit of time educating Corban when the meeting is adjourned,” the Dark Lord said, and Bella beamed manically. The Dark Lord had Cancelled the curse on Yaxley but the man remained on the floor. “Get up and on your seat, Corban,” he said in a quiet but menacing tone, “and stop that infernal whimpering.” Yaxley followed his commands stiffly, climbing to his chair. Severus knew first-hand how much it hurt, but then again, Yaxley had never shown any shred of mercy for any of the Muggles or Muggle-born he'd tortured, and so he ignored it, bracing himself for the repercussions on himself. 

“Severus... and Draco,” the Dark Lord hissed. “You, Severus, are supposed to be my eyes and ears at Hogwarts, and you, Draco, I have elevated to take your father's place at my council. How is it that neither one of you has deemed it necessary to inform me of... this?”

“My Lord,” Severus defended, “we have not been Summoned since the term began, and I fully intended to inform you when my turn came. She is, after all, merely a simple...” he detested the name but could not help it, he had to say it to protect her and to keep his cover, “a simple Mudblood. Dumbledore intends to use her as an entertainment for the students, to keep up their spirits, as it were. He believes that the music and her... distasteful performances will distract them from being too nervous.”

“Draco, is this your opinion?” the Dark Lord queried.

“Ye-yes, my Lord,” Draco said, “the Mudblood is of no real consequence.”

“I have been giving her detention scrubbing cauldrons for the first week, my Lord,” Severus added, “and tried to pry out any information about her. She's been asked to perform on the radio, perhaps later at Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, and at school functions, as well as give interviews. Dumbledore believes the students should be kept calm, and he intends to use her for that. He personally told he the same.”

“You have done well, Severus,” the Dark Lord said. “Anything else from Hogwarts?”

“Not much, my Lord. Slughorn has settled in and has begun giving extra lessons at Potions and will soon begin arranging his Slug Club parties, and he has also promised to tutor the weaker N.E.W.T.-level students at Potions... mainly those who received an 'Exceeds Expectations' in their O.W.L.s, among them Potter and his ginger sidekick, the blood-traitor Weasley. He has refused to invite in young Mr Malfoy, along with other prominent pure-blood students.”

“And the Mudblood?”

“Unfortunately she received an 'Outstanding' at O.W.L.s and I could not get rid of her in my class. She also attends the Slug Club.”

“Very well, Severus, keep me informed. And Draco... I want you to talk to me about how the mission I sent you on had progressed. In private after I have dismissed the others. Did anyone else have anything further to add?”

The rest of them remained quiet, trying not to draw any attention to themselves. 

“Very well, you are all dismissed. Draco, you will remain behind...”

Severus exited the room. He felt an urge to return to Hogwarts, to see if Hermione might still be waiting for him, and he was simultaneously grateful for having avoided punishments — though it'd been a close call — and irritated for having missed time with Hermione. 

After a short while Draco opened the door and limped out. He was in a sorry state, his hair dishevelled, robes less than immaculate and his limbs twitching in a way that told Severus he'd received a bout of Crucio. His nose was also bleeding. He heard Bellatrix cackle and Yaxley scream in another room and repressed a shudder. Draco glared at him viciously. 

“I will Apparate us to Hogwarts,” Severus said briefly, and Draco nodded, too exhausted to speak. Severus decided not to question him about his mission, and silently Apparated the young Slytherin to Hogwarts. He slipped him two vials from his pocket. “Take these. I would suggest a warm bath as well, but in a small tub. There is a risk of drowning when a convulsion hits.” Draco nodded stiffly and entered the Slytherin common room, leaving Severus in the corridor. He sighed and walked briskly to his classroom. He felt disappointed when he didn't spot Hermione, but when she appeared in front of him, cancelling her Disillusionment, he felt like his heart might burst. 

He had to clear his throat before he could speak, “Ready to scrub cauldrons, Granger?” and opened the door for them to enter.


	41. Chapter 41

Severus barely had time to close and lock the classroom door before Hermione was in his arms, her lips on his lips, her arms locked behind his back and drawing him closer. “What an unexpected greeting, Miss Granger,” he purred between the frantic kisses.

“I was so worried,” she replied. “Are you hurt? Did he torture you again?”

“No, not this time, although it was close. It is always a delicate balance between supplying too little information for his tastes and supplying false information that might in the end make him kill me. That is probably what will happen in the end anyway,” he sighed, feeling glum. “I'll be asked to deliver something that harms his cause, and he'll kill me for it. But I hope I live just long enough to see him die, and that I'll be killed by one of his followers instead.”

“Don't be like that,” she pleaded. “Can't you hope we'll both see him die and then live long and happy lives together?”

“I would not deserve it, Hermione. I have done so many things, terrible things. You are beautiful, intelligent, talented, young...”

“And in love with you,” she quipped. 

“And I cannot understand why, little love,” he sighed. “Come, we must test your Occlumency. I would ask if you've read the book I gave you and practised, but I suspect you'd rather have skipped sleeping than reading,” he said, and the delicate blush on her cheeks told him enough. “I thought as much,” he said and kissed her gently while simultaneously casting the non-verbal and wandless Legilimens. He was instantly thrown back and blocked, and he couldn't help a proud smile on his lips. 

“You're a wonder, love,” he said. “Potter tried that for weeks and he never once managed to throw me out without using his wand, never once managed to block me like you just have. And that was with me using the spell on him with wand, verbally and with an advance warning. Of course the little prat never once actually tried to learn...”

“Severus, don't. He made an honest mistake. He's not his father, you know.”

“He's more like his father than you think.”

“I don't want to argue, we've little time together as it is, but please give him a chance.”

“I caught him with his head in my Pensieve, Hermione,” he said sharply. “He refused to listen when I told him to keep up with his studies of Occlumency, and he lead you to the Ministry on a suicide mission that got Black killed and got you and some of your friends hurt. He nearly got you killed, Hermione, because he's a pigheaded idiot. Don't think I've not seen the scar on your chest.”

The pain in Hermione's eyes was obvious, and her hands came instinctively up to cover her chest, though the area was hidden under her robes and her uniform. “It's an ugly thing,” she said quietly, avoiding his eyes.

“Not that ugly, little love,” he said, knowing full well how much scars could injure one's self-esteem. “I have a lot more, and uglier. You've seen them.”

“Not properly. I've been... preoccupied with other things,” she said with a tiny little smile that bordered on naughty.

“I have noticed. Now, how far did you get with the book on Occlumency?”

“I'm about half-way done,” she replied. 

“Half? You've already read half of it? In addition to your homework, Prefect duties, classes, achieving full marks...?” She nodded, and Severus chuckled. 

“I also did the extra class with Professor Slughorn and had time to rehearse the song with Susan. But I haven't had the time to modify some of my lyrics to suit the Wizarding world,” she mourned. 

“You're an overachiever if there's ever been one,” Severus said. “You remind me of myself when I was your age, really.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I guess we're a pretty good match then,” she said and pushed herself closer to him. He hummed and sat down on his chair, pulling her down with him and to his arms.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Where?”

“At the meeting. You were Summoned?”

“Ah. The Dark Lord had us listen to music.”

“What?”

“He had a radio, the Wizarding Wireless. Dumbledore is pushing buttons, and your songs are played constantly now. There aren't that many wizarding bands and artists anyway, and you're young and seem to be coming popular. He found out you're at Hogwarts, and wanted to know why I've not told him of you.” Severus hesitated for a while, unsure of if he should tell her that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater, but chose not to. Draco was after Dumbledore, not Hermione. 

“How'd... how'd they react?”

“Actually, Corban Yaxley hummed along the song. He didn't even realise it. The Dark Lord punished him for it.” 

Hermione cringed and looked guilty and sad. 

“Don't grieve for him, Hermione,” Severus said, “he has murdered dozens of witches, wizards and Muggles. He kills without mercy and rejoices in it, enjoys the murder. He has had no mercy on any of his victims.” She sighed but nodded, pushing herself closer to him, caressing his neck with her delicate fingers and kissing the corner of his thin lips. 

“I won't,” she promised. “You make me feel better. Thank you for telling me. For being here. Being with me.”

“Nobody will approve of us,” he said quietly. “Even if I were to survive, nobody would accept this. If they'd find out now I'd be sacked, quite probably end up in Azkaban and dead, and you would probably be expelled, but even after the war, after you've graduated... I'm twenty years older than you, Hermione. Old enough to be your father.”

“When were you born?”

“I've told you I won't tell you my birthday,” he teased. 

“Please?”

“Fine. The 9th of January, 1960.”

“That's nineteen years, eight months aaaannd... ten days,” she said quickly. “That's not twenty years. And wizards live to be older than Muggles. You're very young by our standards.”

“I'm also ugly. I'm thin, I've got sallow skin, greasy hair, hooked nose, crooked and yellow teeth... what would your parents say?”

“They're not that shallow. And neither am I. I love you as you are, hooked nose and all. Might I also remind you I'm not blind?”

“I am beginning to suspect you are.”

“I am not. I might also remind you that I have a bushy hair, I'm bossy and I dress in either frumpy Muggle clothes or oversized uniforms, and never wear make-up?”

“Oh? And the tight skirts and tank tops? I do remember you wiping off make-up frequently during the summer?”

“That's for the stage! That's just for the performances and appearances. And did you notice that people rarely recognised me when I wore my casual jeans and shirts and left out the make-up?”

“I did,” he acquiesced. 

“There. I'm just the casual, ordinary Hermione inside. The bookworm, the walking dictionary, just one of the guys.”

“You are nothing of the sort. You are beautiful, intelligent and lovely, and for the first time in my life I find myself in love.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes. I once thought I was in love, many years ago. I was... wrong. You are the first woman I have ever truly loved.”

“And I love you, Severus.”

“But they will never accept this. Albus, Minerva, your parents, the ministry... they'd have my hide. Potter and Weasley would accuse me of using a potion or the Imperius on you. They'd accuse you of sleeping with me to improve your grades, and the Dark Lord would kill us both.”

“We'll worry about that later. I don't care what they think, and I'll defend us to them. I'll be of age in less than two weeks anyway, the war won't last forever, and Harry and Ron... they'll just have to get over it. My parents like you and they'll accept you, you'll see. Mum is actually fourteen years younger than dad. And as for my grades...” she poked him with her finger, “I'd like to see them also accuse me of sleeping with Professor Flitwick, Professor Vector or Professor McGonagall, because I get better grades on my essays from them all. You constantly give me an 'E'!”

“That's because you give me three feet of parchment when I ask for one,” he quipped.

“It's research, vital background research!”

“Possibly, but you need to learn how to summarize and cut down. I want to read your opinion on the matter, your own views. You believe too much in what the textbooks and authors say, and recite it back. You need to argue with the sources: learn to distinguish what is important from the unimportant, use the source material to defend or argue for your point, or disprove their theories when necessary. That's advanced essay writing. I also have to grade hundreds of essays, and the size limit is there for that reason as well.”

“Oh... I never thought of that,” she said with a blush.

“I'm sure you didn't. Most students have to struggle to produce enough material to fill the required parchment, but you, little love, are in a different level altogether.”

“You've never really explained these things,” she defended.

“And the word of showing any favour to a Gryffindor would find its way to the ears of various Death Eaters in no time at all.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I'll try to do better now.”

“You always do better than anyone else. You are brilliant, Hermione.”

“So are you. I love your intelligence... your voice, how it makes me shiver. It can be so silky and smooth when you want it to be. I love your hands, your fingers... your eyes. People always say they're black, but they're actually such a deep and dark brown colour. I've never noticed that before this summer. I love how captivating you are. Arresting, confident... you've got gravitas. I love that little quirk of your lips when you smile.”

“Hermione, I love you,” he whispered.

“I want to be yours, Severus. Only yours.”

“Only mine,” he repeated and kissed her feverishly. Their hands roamed in a heated dance, urgently seeking skin through their clothes, opening buttons and folds of fabric. She opened his fly and took his cock into her hand, stroking gently the way she'd learned he liked: spreading the bead of pre-cum to the bulbous head with her finger as he buried his head into her neck, breathing harshly against her skin. His hands found their way to her breasts, caressing her nipples, then pushing her bra away and taking her nipple into his mouth, licking and suckling on it.

His breath soon grew rapid and harsh, he groaned now and then, his hips involuntarily pushing upwards, thrusting his cock into her hand until he finally stiffened and came, his sperm covering her hands and dripping off her knuckles, panting like an animal against her skin, his eyes closed in ecstasy. 

 

He cleaned her hand and his cock with a non-verbal and wandless Tergeo, and then pushed his fingers to her panties, but Hermione grasped his hand and prevented him. “Um... my period began this morning,” she mumbled quietly.

“Ah, I see,” he said with a smile and kissed her, withdrawing his hand. “Do you need a potion for the pain?”

“If you have something ready. I usually use Crookshanks as a belly warmer at nights, and it's not terrible now, but I tend to get some mild cramps.”

“I'll give you a vial soon,” he promised. 

“How do you know so much about such things?” she asked.

“I'm the Potions Master,” he reminded her, “and part of my training involved medicinal potions for such things.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Yes,” he said, kissing her gently, struggling against the lassitude that had taken over his body from the orgasm. 

“Do you know if we'll have more of these lessons next week?” she asked, her face showing concern. It was the Gryffindor way, wearing their heart in their sleeves, showing all their emotions.

“Not yet. I have a meeting with Dumbledore tomorrow, but I will go after we've finished for tonight to debrief him about the Summons. I cannot ask him for more lessons, though. If I ask for more, seem eager, he will suspect something. I will have to show reluctance in teaching you. I might have to lie about your progress as well, downplay it a bit so he'll allow us to continue longer.”

“I understand. I don't want to loose these lessons either. I know I get to see you at the regular Potions lessons every week, but it's just not the same. Less kisses too.”

“I'm afraid you'd best go now, little love,” he said. “We had to start late, and if we continue for too long, it would draw suspicions.”

“All right. I'll practise for tomorrow. I promised Professor Flitwick I'd meet his choir, but I'll be here on time. I love you.”

She managed to leave after a few more kisses and after he'd given her two vials of a mild painkiller. The room felt colder and darker when she'd gone.


	42. Chapter 42

Saturday dawned, and Hermione yawned as she got up. She was exhausted: with a full course schedule, the amount of work they received from each class, rehearsals with Susan, meetings with Severus: they all took their toll. Ron was currently almost glued to Lavender, which improved matters: Lavender didn't pull her into sessions of giggling and make-up, and she distracted Ron from asking her to do his essays. Hermione had suggested Lavender could help Ronald with his essays and assignments, which kept them both quite happily at work and lessened her workload. 

After a quick shower she made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Severus was already at the High Table, drinking his tea and eating a slice of toast slowly: she saw his eyes flicker at her surreptitiously and though his expression didn't change, she knew his eyes would have softened, had she been close enough to see them. Nobody bothered him: the seats around him were empty, the other teachers present were quietly chatting and concentrating on their own breakfasts. The other teachers rarely spoke to Severus, she'd noticed, although Professor Moody had taken a habit of bullying him mercilessly. Hermione hoped that the Headmaster would stop the old Auror sooner rather than later: it was hardly healthy for Severus having to leave before he'd finished his meals.

Slowly the Great Hall filled up with students. Ron, Lavender and Harry arrived, the boys' eyes bleary from sleep, Lavender tucked under Ron's arm. Hermione greeted them all with a smile, and Lavender beamed at her: she was terribly chirpy in the morning. The three began piling their plates with breakfast: Ron helped himself to a large portion of everything, and Hermione saw Lavender keep an eye on his plate to make sure he was well fed, though she herself ate carefully to maintain her figure. Lav winked at Hermione, and Hermione hid her smile behind her hand, before she poured herself a second cup of tea and took an apple from the basket. 

Her eyes quickly flickered at the High Table, though she struggled not to stare at Severus: she let her gaze wander across the entire High Table and every teacher. All the Professors except Moody were now present: Professor Flitwick was sitting next to Severus, but he was listening intently on Professor Sprout, who was gesturing widely with her left hand. 

The breakfast was almost eaten when Professor Dumbledore got up and aimed his wand at himself, muttering a spell that turned up to be the Sonorous.

“Good morning, students, may I have your attention, please,” the Headmaster announced. “I would like to announce that tomorrow, on Sunday at twelve o'clock, we will be presenting the concert of the singing star Mione G in the Great Hall. The concert is a Muggle concert and I recommend seeing this fine performance with us all, as it shows us an aspect of Muggle culture not all of us have seen, as well as provide us with some light entertainment. The viewing is not mandatory, of course, but we welcome anyone and everyone to see the concert with us. Thank you for your attention!”

The sound levels rose as students began speculating on how a Muggle concert could be shown at Hogwarts, and several Muggle-born and half-blood students were heard explaining the concept of videos. 

“You didn't tell us they'd be showing your concert, Hermione,” Harry said.

“I didn't know,” Hermione replied. “I knew Professor Flitwick had the tape, I asked my parents to give it to him, actually.”

“How are they going to show it, anyway? Muggle technology doesn't work here. It is a VHS, right?”

“Yep, but between Professor Flitwick and Professor Dumbledore? I'm sure they've found a way around that,” Hermione replied. She noticed several people listening in on them, some straining closer from their seats to hear them better.

“I can't wait!” Lavender squealed in excitement and squeezed Ronald's arm.”

“I'll be glad to see it, too,” Harry said. “Glad it's not interfering with Quidditch trials.”

“When are those?” Hermione asked.

“Next Saturday for Gryffindor, the morning slot. Slytherin has theirs in the afternoon. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are scheduled for the Sunday after that. You'll all come, won't you?”

As all their friends nodded and voiced their approval, Hermione hesitated. Harry saw it clearly.

“Come on, 'Mione! You can't miss the trials! I'm the captain, and Ron and Ginny are both trying for the team this year.”

“I'll try, guys, but I have to practise my songs, and with the vast load of homework... I'm in so many classes, and you wouldn't believe how many parchments I need to write for them.”

“I'm just glad we got rid of Snape at Potions,” Ron said with a shudder. “Slughorn's class ain't easy but it's not as if he's badgering and bullying us like Snape was. Real relief, that.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Slughorn is a bit disappointed that I don't make such perfect potions, but he's not that bad. Are the classes with Snape as terrible as they used to?”

“No,” Hermione said with a shrug. “Everyone there achieved an O at their O.W.L.'s, so he expects quite a lot of us all, and he had us all brew some difficult ones this week. When we have easier potions, he has us sometimes brew two at once.”

The others gave her puzzled and frightened looks, and Lavender said, “I'm so glad I dropped Potions...”

“It's really not so bad,” Hermione defended.

“You're bloody mental you are,” Ron said. “Snape's a right git.”

Hermione had to fight to keep down her angry retort. She remembered Severus' cautionary words: keep things secret. Reveal nothing, hide everything. The trouble and danger they'd be in if they were found out. “I like Potions,” she shrugged. “It's nicely challenging. Like Arithmancy.”

“You like every subject,” Ron scoffed.

“Except Divinations,” Harry snickered. 

“What have you got scheduled today?” Lavender asked Hermione. 

“Essays, a meeting with Susan to practise. I also promised to meet with Professor Flitwick and his choir at four o'clock, and then I've got detention again.”

“On Saturday?!” Lavender squeaked.

“And Sunday,” Hermione shrugged. 

“Snape,” Ron said by the way of explanation, wagging his eyebrows, and Lavender nodded with an expression that belayed her condolences. 

“You've absolutely no time to rest anywhere, have you?” Lavender observed. “It seems to me you read by wand-light every night when we fall asleep!”

“I've always done that, Lav,” Hermione replied with a smile as she took a small bunch of grapes and popped two into her mouth at once. 

“I guess,” Lavender admitted as Hermione ate her grapes. Harry stole one off her plate with a mischievous snicker, and Hermione pretended to swat him.

“Anyway, I best be off. I promised Susan that we'd meet after breakfast,” Hermione said. “The broadcast on Wizarding Wireless Network is Thursday next week, so we really need to get it down to perfection.”

“I bet it already is,” Harry said. “You're always so critical.”

Hermione waved at her friends as she took off. She did not notice that a certain blond-haired boy stared at her with his grey eyes before he muttered an excuse and took off, Disillusioning himself outside the Great Hall and trailing after her.

Draco was depressed. Her music seemed to help. 

 

******************************************************************

 

After her session with Susan and Justin, Hermione walked slowly to the library. She had some time to write essays before she'd have to eat, then meet with Professor Flitwick's choir. 

But who had been listening in on them? She wasn't stupid or unobservant: she'd seen the faint glimmer of a Disillusionment at the Room of Requirement as the person had changed their position, and this was the second time she'd seen it. She didn't think Susan and Justin had spotted it, and so far the person had just been listening quietly, sitting on the floor in a corner. It didn't seem dangerous, but then again, she'd always been there with Justin and Susan. There were plenty of people who might wish her harm: she promised herself she'd watch her back.


End file.
